


Disney High: The Jungle

by IncurableNecromantic



Series: Disney High AU [2]
Category: Disney - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, based on a Disney High School AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurableNecromantic/pseuds/IncurableNecromantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a Disney High AU, in which the sidekicks and mentors of Disney heroes work in a high school and teach their young charges, here is the story of the budding romance between two lifelong friends, Bagheera Kala and Baloo Sangita.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

"Baloo Sangita, you disreputable bum!"

"Get off my back, Baghee, it's a two-hour difference!"

"And I'm here in case your students come in? This is ridiculous—you can't simply foist it off on me! What if I weren't here?"

"You're always here, I'm surprised you don't keep a bed under the desk. Stop worryin', Baghee, I'll take care of it!"

"Like you took care of Junior Hathi when he went through his rebellious phase? As I recall, the nose piercing was an idea of yours, wasn't it?"

"I just said some people did it! Anyway, the Colonel would've shipped him off to military school whether he wanted to go or not! Can't a guy make one mistake?"

"Not with the children!"

"Look, I've got my leave, I'm going. I'll see you around, Bagheera."

"Don't think you've heard the end of this! We're going to talk about this later!"

Baloo shouldered his messenger bag and grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie jacket. "Man, if ever a guy needed to get laid…"

\--

Bagheera Kala wanted to get laid.

It had taken days to reach this point, and as he stood outside his townhouse, shifting his takeout into the crook of his elbow, the other arm holding his briefcase, and fumbled for his keys, he realized that he couldn't deny it any more.

He'd done everything he could think of to stave off the matter, not wanting to be bothered with the messy business of dating—after all, an one-night stand was simply not an option for him. He was a good Indian boy, if queer as a wooden shilling, and he wouldn't just use someone like that.

Bagheera slipped in and sat on the bench just inside the door, smiling slightly and sighing as his twin black kittens, Priya and Rani, came to greet him. He pulled off his shoes and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders luxuriously.

He curled his lip a bit at the state of the living room. His housemate was an old friend of his, and they'd never really managed to agree on the cleanliness level that was necessary for a well-running household. Baloo subsisted on what he called the 'bare necessities,' which essentially meant spending money on food and rent and almost nothing else—it was a nightmare getting him out to buy clothes. Baloo was something of a slacker, and a huge fan of music. There were vinyl records on every surface, and Bagheera collected them and stacked them in a pile, freeing the sofa and end tables from the clutter.

But back to the problem at hand. Something deep down in his bones was aching. He was wan and tired and totally unattractive, and he wanted to feel sexy. He wanted to be sexy again. He wanted to tempt, to prowl out and smirk and have someone's eyes unable to move off of him. He wanted to move, to rock and slide and dance, even, and he was a serious man. Dancing was something he hardly ever did.

He'd done very well to try to avoid the feeling. Raw physicality could not possibly be the problem; he'd spent extra time exercising for weeks, releasing enormous amounts of tension on the track and on the rock climb. He'd channeled whatever appetite he could productively, treating himself to small, more reasonably sensual pleasures during the week: a fresh haircut not two days ago, a new set of ridiculously luxurious black satin sheets, and now, most forbidden of all, a thick, succulent steak, a specimen of the red meat variety that would have his poor mother spinning in her grave, if she knew her son was going to eat it. He realized belatedly that the efforts individually had been futile, but together, they put him entirely in the right mood for adventure of the romantic type.

It was Friday, and he was reaching the end of his rope. Nothing was working. He wanted sex, and he wanted it badly. It was horrible for him to be losing control like this, when he prided himself so much on being composed, clear-headed, and logical.

Bagheera set his place at the table primly, smiling lovingly at his meal. He was ready to thank his lucky stars that Baloo was always out on Friday nights—running into his big bear of a housemate would only result in 'borrowed' bites of his steak and awkward conversation. It could be hard enough at work to keep his friend from getting any hint of what was bothering him—for all that he floated through life, following his own fancy, Baloo could be unnervingly insightful.

Bagheera knew what he was, and he never needed to hide it, but it simply wasn't something he talked about. He was happy with himself, pleased with the way he'd turned out, especially compared with some people he knew, and even worked with. He was firmly out of the closet, but he wasn't flashy or overly flamboyant, or oversexed to the point of absurdity…

No, oversexed was definitely not his problem, he thought with a little scowl. God, when was the last time he'd even…

The scowl deepened. As if he could ever forget. The last time he'd been with someone had been Shere Khan, and that was a year ago, now.

Now there had been a relationship doomed to hideous failure. They'd been friends once—they'd even grown up in the same city, along with Baloo. There had been a period of time when they'd been practically living in each other's pockets, and what they'd lacked in real connection they'd more than made up in a constant, slightly flirtatious acquaintanceship.

Since nearly the moment Bagheera had sixteen, the sexual tension between him and Shere Khan, his elder by three years, had been incredibly pronounced. Something about the way Khan had shot up and filled out, big and broad-shouldered, with those strong, pronounced features and unusual, gorgeous coloring, and the way he'd carried himself, smooth and sensual and oh-so deliberate (and, oh gracious, that voice, ooh, that had haunted a dream or two), had just caught Bagheera's attention and never let it wander far.

Then Bagheera had been picked up and moved to America, torn out of the sweltering bosom of India and away from friends he'd known from infancy. He'd managed to stay in touch with Baloo, and drop hints about American universities, which led to their reconnecting years later.

But Shere Khan had disappeared completely from his radar, only to slink back onto the scene hardly five years ago. What had been the great unrequited lust of Bagheera's life had been totally eclipsed by the pleasant torment of having the large, scrumptious, utterly civilized man settling in America, in Bagheera's own adopted city. Time had only been good to Shere Khan. Once more they'd been thrust together, running into each other everywhere, privately and professionally.

It had only been a matter of time until Bagheera had reached the limits of his resistance. After that, all he'd done was offer several precisely-calculated seductive smirks and carefully casual, innocent touches, and he'd had the enormous satisfaction of watching Shere Khan's eyes gleam and his mouth turn upwards in that carnivorous grin. He'd been invited home for a proper meal, and found himself being devoured.

Unfortunately, the bedroom had been the only place where he and Khan ever really got along. Bagheera was far too stubborn, too stiff and upright to the other man, whose perfect social grace masked an unstable moral structure. Khan was vicious, manipulative, ruthless, and completely self-centered. He took pains to hide it, but it came out in small gestures—the reckless disregard for the speed limit in school zones, the brusque dismissal of any sort of charity, the hastily-stifled snickers of intense schadenfreude, the thinly-veiled contempt of Bagheera's own softer-hearted moments. These were tiny hints, and what they suggested was nothing truly hideous, but they made Bagheera's instincts sit up and take note. When combined with the simple fact that he and Khan had nothing outside of a fantastic sex life in common, it made him wary and uncomfortable.

Their affair had lasted almost a year before Bagheera broke it off. Shere Khan had taken the news with as much immaculate good grace and artfully applied concern as he'd expected, but he'd firmly established that their differences were irreconcilable. There was nothing to be done—it just wasn't working—there just wasn't any real passion in the relationship. For all their carnal communication, Bagheera couldn't help but feel as if he wasn't really wanted. Shere Khan didn't seem to crave his company. He didn't want to lounge lazily through a Saturday together, or watch films, or argue about politics and music and...everything, or try to make Bagheera smile or even laugh; if Bagheera wanted that, he had to come home to Baloo.

The cold break was almost worse than a raging, ugly fight would've been; at least that would've indicated that Shere Khan cared about what little they did have. Bagheera, despite being the instigator, and despite being happy to be free again, felt beaten and hollow. For so much of his life, he could remember wanting to get closer to the other man, and trying and failing had exhausted him. It had been so much wasted time.

Baloo had been extremely decent about it. Shere Khan was not a subject he and Bagheera ever plainly discussed, but…for heavens' sakes, they lived in the same house, and Bagheera had his foot firmly down about sneaking around or being ashamed about his personal life. If Baloo hadn't known what was going on, at least a little, Bagheera would've been worried about his friend's basic powers of perception.

"Geez, Baghee," Baloo had said, "I'm real sorry about this whole thing." He'd come home late one Saturday night to find his friend steadily working his way through a bottle of truly awful red wine. Half-soused and pleasantly numb to anything like emotional pain, Bagheera had spilled out the whole matter of the break-up, thinking it only decent to apprise his friend of the facts. They'd have to have the conversation sooner or later, and they might as well have it now, when he was relaxed. "I kinda knew you two were goin' out, but I didn't know it was serious."

Bagheera had laughed sourly. How could he tell Baloo that it wasn't serious, at all? The last thing he wanted was to admit that he'd been little more than an extremely cultured booty call. Baloo didn't need to know that, and Bagheera would rather jab a pencil in his eye than explain all the torrid details. It wasn't something a man like Bagheera discussed, not even with his best friend.

"Don't worry, buddy. There's plenty good fish in the sea. We'll find you a great new boyfriend, somebody who'll make ol' Shere Khan kick himself for lettin' a star like you get away."

The ridiculous idea of Shere Khan being jealous over him, much less ever consenting to being called anyone's 'boyfriend,' was enough to take the bitter element out of the evening. Baloo helped him finish the wine, and was mercifully quiet until mid-afternoon as Bagheera rued his unusual over-indulgence.

Of course, this was all old news, he ruminated as he finished his steak. It had been at least a year since the excitement of those flashing eyes and that hungry, desirous smile, and there hadn't been so much as a nibble of interest since. Bagheera had buried himself in work, being fed up entirely with romantic entanglements, and hadn't surfaced but slowly, and only in the last month.

And now…now there was an urge burning in his skin that just wouldn't let him be.

Bagheera held himself firm and upright as he did his dishes and retired to his room. There, he spent a few moments in his closet, before taking a quick shower. He fairly slid into a fresh outfit, something a little more relaxed than his work clothes, but still in his typical black-on-black theme. With pale skin (god, he'd paled since he'd come to this cool, cloudy city) and hazel eyes, and jet-black hair, he supposed he could've worn anything, but black always looked best to him. Black could be formal, professional, or casual. Or even sexy.

It was definitely sexy he was going for tonight. He'd left a bit of a five o'clock shadow around his jaw and chin, liking the slight ruggedness of the look. It wouldn't do for work, but for now… He'd pulled on what essentially amounted to a black muscle shirt, tight black jeans, and a pair of sleek black boots, and he looked at himself critically in the mirror, combing back his hair.

He looked…well, he looked good. Casual, of course—he mussed his hair—a little unkempt, tousled, and with the muscle shirt showing off a good amount of skin and the jeans giving a few broad hints about his physique, even a little bit slutty. He smiled. That was fine with him…if his greatest sin was looking a little bit slutty once in a blue moon, he could certainly handle it. If he had any luck, he'd fit right in, where he was going.

He fed the cats and emerged into the clean air of a sultry evening, taking a deep breath before he slid behind the wheel of his car. This would be fun. He was going out and he was going to meet new people.

He swallowed back a little flutter of nerves and started the engine.

\--

Bagheera had only ever been to The Jungle once or twice before, but it had impressed him. In his younger, only-slightly-wilder days, he'd made a tour of gay bars in the city, and as a result he knew just about every one, by reputation if not by face. (Though he disapproved of gossip in a general sense, Monsieur Lumiere's whispered, giggling news about Professor Cogsworth inadvertently hanging out at Finland Tom's had actually had him laughing for several minutes.) The Jungle was his favorite out of the bunch—a clean, rather classy establishment, down-to-earth enough in its way, with room for a band, a bar, a few booths, and a dance floor.

It was all he wanted at the moment. It was almost certain to be off the radar of anyone else he knew, who might frequent the place. Baloo would almost definitely never dream of wandering over there, unless there was a particularly swinging band—after all, as far as Bagheera knew, his housemate was straight. And as much as he appreciated his other friends, the last thing he wanted was to be seen in club clothes. If they all thought he slept and showered in a long-sleeve shirt and tie, well, that wouldn't displease him unduly.

He parked in a public lot and made his way over at a relaxed pace, enjoying the fresh weather of early night. The streets weren't busy, per se, but steady, and he hoped that there would be a good selection tonight. He expected nothing more than an evening of dancing, maybe a phone number or two, or a drink bought for him, if he was lucky. Maybe he could get this out of his system with just a little reintroduction to the dating scene—enough to get his feet wet, as it were.

There was no line at the door, and he chatted amicably with the bouncer. Ten dollars got him in, and he surveyed the scene with a slight smirk, pleased with what he saw. It looked like a good night—the dance floor was packed with dancing men of all colors and shapes. Even the booths were occupied. He was about to slink over to the bar and ask for something soft, when he heard the band start their next song.

Oh. Bagheera didn't consider himself particularly susceptible to music—he was completely un-artistic himself, and never had the inclination to try either producing music or dancing. But this…he almost wished Baloo were here. The big man would've loved this; he was going through a swing phase at the moment, and this…oh, this was a band that could break hearts. It had a fast beat, a boisterous, party-perfect tempo, something about it just getting into his hips and shoulders and making him want to move.

Bagheera slipped right into the thick of the floor, feeling himself starting to let loose. He closed his eyes, letting his body rock and sway to the beat. When was the last time he'd done this? When was the last time he'd let himself get lost in a crowd of attractive strangers, forced himself out into the open, put himself in connection with others by the simple means of sharing music and movement? His dignity was so precious to him, his composure his most prized possession, but…he could almost understand Baloo in a moment like this, when nothing mattered but a certain animal instinct, guiding him to release himself from his restraint and his inhibitions.

Of course, he'd never let himself get carried away. That would be dangerous…adventurous…maybe even fun…but he couldn't bear it. No, no, no. He was an upstanding member of the community, and he'd never take a rare opportunity to simply satisfy his base urges with some handsome, passionate stranger set on debauching him…

His next thought wiped all the attraction from that thought. It was precisely that situation that he'd gotten out of with Shere Khan: a handsome man, practically a stranger, for all Bagheera really knew about him, who had indeed been set on debauching him. The memories smoldered with a kind of low, intense bitter-sweetness. Shere Khan had been ultimately a mistake, but he had to admit, for all the resentment and disappointment, he'd been an incredible mistake to make.

Enough of that. He wasn't here to think about Shere Khan. He was here to be looked at, danced with, desired. He could force himself to be modest if he had to be, but…frankly, he was a handsome man. Young and very well-kept, if he did say so himself, and he looked sexy. Damn it, he was sexy. Just because he didn't have someone to confirm it didn't mean it wasn't true. 

Bagheera looked around, scoping out the scene he'd found himself in. Oh, how perfect. He'd managed to get himself surrounded by larger men on almost all sides. He had to struggle to keep a low, deep purr in his throat; he liked big. He always had. Something about a large frame just got his mind reeling…he liked a man that looked like a man. Hair and muscles and strength. Bagheera licked his lips. This was going so well.

\--

"Pray, my dear friend," drawled the larger man as he sipped his Scotch neat, "tell me what the cause is of this rather unbecoming pity-party."

His companion gave him a brief, venomous glare. "I celebrate the birth of my sister-in-law's first child."

"Ah, hence the champagne cocktail. Well, what beastly luck." Genuine sympathy was not even an afterthought. "I suppose that does throw your game a bit, doesn't it?"

"Hardly. It's just one more thing to dispose of. One more obstacle. But I am equal to the challenge," he replied, nursing his Bellini. He scanned the room, lifting an eyebrow to see a new arrival. 

He rather liked black. And this newcomer wore it well…certainly better than the mob of woefully imperfect specimens out on the floor now.

"Obviously," said the Scotch drinker, sounding distracted. The other man followed his gaze and smirked, pleased to know that he wasn't alone in admiration. He waited patiently until his companion gave him a cool, polite look, and he rolled his eyes towards their mutual interest.

"Perhaps a consolation prize is in order," he purred. It was the larger man's turn to glare.

"I could hardly suggest it." 

"Could you indeed." He licked the rim of his glass, catching a bit of peach-flavored champagne. 

"I am familiar with him."

"Are you casting aspersions?"

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell."

Unable to resist, he grinned ferally. "But of course. My, my, the lengths one must go to, to be taken into your confidence…" They exchanged a platonically smutty look and watched the newcomer slide effortlessly into the crowd.

"Mm," one said thoughtfully, licking his lips to free them of peachy champagne. The Scotch drinker shook his head.

"I caution you for your own good," he said with a cruel little smile. "He'd break you in half."

The last person who had made a statement like that was tenderly hand-processed worm food. He grinned, flashing all his teeth, something in his expression saying 'I'm going to murder you in your sleep, my dear friend.'

Shere Khan snickered to himself and signaled to the bartender for another round. Tough love was really the only way to go when it came to Scar.

\--

He had to take a few moments to fall in with the beat, but once he was there, he turned his attention inward, cataloguing the way it felt to move like this. He'd risen up on the balls of his feet, and the muscles in his legs stretched and flexed deliciously. His chest and abdomen were held tight and upright, letting his hips, shoulders, head, and arms move freely. 

Loud, brassy horns played from the stage, and he smiled to himself, rocking his hips back and forth in little shakes, shoulders rolling back and forth, his body curling side to side. Tired of bottling up, he let his hips get frisky, riding the beat from one neat curve of his body to the next. His arms rose, hands level with his face and limp, fingers clicking, accentuating the flexibility of his muscles and the sinful drawl of his black clothes as they hinted at shifting, moving flesh. Bagheera grinned—this felt amazing. Just dancing felt wonderful, moving like he did it all the time, like his hips were precisely made for music and for love. 

A prickle of heat rose on the back of his neck, and he tipped his head, opening heavy-lidded eyes enough to smirk out at the world. He was being watched. He leaned forward a bit with one firm sway, exercising quite a bit of control and careful attention to rhythm, flaunting and stretching his body. He couldn't help but purr as he shifted, delighted to glance innocently upward and see several broad smiles turned on him. 

He was vain. He liked being wanted. He ran his tongue lightly over his teeth, grinning. Nothing pleased him like admiring glances. He knew he was susceptible to it, and he had to limit it—clouded judgment was the last thing he needed—but the last time he'd gotten his ego stroked was such a long, long time ago. He'd been good. He deserved.

Bagheera smiled, accidentally bumping a hip into a body right behind him. He looked ever so slightly over his shoulder, delighted to find that he was eye-level with another man's chest—and what an excellent specimen it was! This lovely, shameless creature had his chest bare, and the sight frankly made Bagheera's mouth water. The whole man was broad, and he was big and tall and…yes, nicely equipped in the muscular department. Bagheera tilted his head and smirked, shaking his shoulders and grinning as the man behind him mimicked the gesture.

Well, all right.

The band started up a new tune, a fast song, and they exploded into motion. It wasn't anything as sophisticated or as carefully planned as a couples' dance—it was two people moving apart to get closer, one in it for shallow, utterly self-serving reasons, the other…who knew? Probably the same! Bagheera took to looking over his shoulder with every sway, pleased to find that his partner had complimented the motion in the opposite direction. He almost jumped when the stranger bumped his hips into his ass, but he caught himself and, offering a slightly lecherous little smile, rode the motion, shifting his own body with the daring move. He turned his head towards that nice broad body, and hummed; ooh, he even smelled nice. Irish Spring and sweat and spice. Delicious.

Though the stranger seemed surprised, he never flinched when Bagheera reached for him, turning around and placing his hands on that broad chest. He hadn't looked up at his face yet, but he was moving too fast to get a good look, anyway. His partner let him run his fingertips over him, through dark hair over soft, hot skin. Bagheera prowled around to get the 360 degree view before turning back around in front to continue their slightly competitive dance, amused when those naughty hips found him again. When the song finally ended, he was panting slightly, but he took advantage of the brief pause to talk to his new acquaintance.

"Now that we've gotten to know each other, maybe we should be introduced," he purred, turning with his best smirk on. "I'm—Baloo!"

"No kiddin'? Me too!" As his friend laughed, Bagheera's heart sank so fast it should've dropped out of his body and landed between his feet. What was Baloo doing here, dressed like…that? 

His housemate was wearing a grey button-up shirt, something the responsible part of Bagheera would've thrilled in, if the shirt had had any more than three buttons done. As it was, Baloo's large frame was on excellent display, his dark-haired chest brazenly exposed. Bagheera's cheeks burned fiercely—and what did he think he was doing in those pants? They were obscene! Bagheera should know; after all, during that little turn he'd gotten a great look at his rather nice butt—

Oh God, please kill him now. This was humiliating. What had he done to deserve this? Was it really so bad that he cut loose, that he had to be punished like this? Baloo was his friend, of course, and wouldn't hold it over him, but…why did he have to be so shameless? He was practically all over him! And only because he'd thought that he'd found a partner bold enough to dance with him…someone who wanted to dance with him because they thought he was…

He was ridiculous. He was…he was too uptight and serious at the best of times and now he'd made a fool of himself, exposed himself like this, all but pushed his best friend down on his back on the dance floor and straddled him! He was burning with embarrassment, realizing how utterly absurd he must look, behaving so…whorishly, and around someone he was as close to as Baloo…

He winced, and felt the reassuring flame of annoyance—irritation—no, anger, bloom in his chest. Mortification was horrible, but if he could temper it, project it out, he might manage to avoid running out of here with his tail between his legs. 

He seized Baloo by one dove-grey sleeve and, gritting his teeth, dragged him out of the crowd and into the men's room. He knew that Baloo had to be coming along willingly; it would take a sumo wrestler to move Baloo if he didn't want to be moved, and Bagheera was no where near big enough to budge an unwilling inch of him. Fuming, face flushed with fury, Bagheera closed the door and turned on his friend, eyes spitting flame.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you? You just let me make a fool of myself!"

"What? No, Baghee, you were great! I—"

"You knew I didn't know it was you! I never would've…done that!"

"But I—"

"What are you even doing here? Don't you know what kind of—Baloo, I can't believe you let me humiliate myself like that!"

Baloo put two enormous hands on his shoulders, holding him down. It was probably a wise gesture: Bagheera felt angry enough to tear out his friend's throat, or at least pound futilely on his chest. "Okay now, Bagheera, just calm down. You're getting all worked up. Take a deep breath for me."

Trembling with impotent fury and embarrassment, Bagheera couldn't help but do as he was told. It was times like this that some of his doubts about Baloo were erased—no wonder he was so good with his students. He knew how to talk to the distressed.

He was ready to launch back into it, to cling to anger like a security blanket, when Baloo squeezed one of his shoulders.

"Now, come on, Baghee, think. I wouldn't do somethin' like that to you. You didn't humiliate nothing; you looked great out there! I didn't know you could dance like that!"

Like a wanton. Like a sexually repressed queer man desperate for whatever he could get. Bagheera swallowed back shame and something thick and sickish, tasting far too much like misery.

"I'm…I never should've…" He wrapped his arms around himself, fury draining out of him at an alarming pace. It had been a smokescreen, and he knew it was unfair to Baloo, but he didn't want to feel this way. It was his fault that he was humiliated now—this had been a terrible idea, how could he be surprised when it backfired? 

His hands met bare skin and he flushed more darkly, embarrassment compounding on embarrassment. He'd do quite a lot for a sport coat, at the moment. And was he really wearing jeans this tight?

Of course he was. He shifted in mortification.

"Why're you saying a dumb thing like that?" Baloo asked, keeping a hold on him. Did he think Bagheera would bolt? The very last thing he wanted was to go back out there and face his own idiocy. "Of course you should've! I don't even know what you should've, but you definitely should've!"

Bagheera winced. "I'm…sorry for…doing that, Baloo, it was inexcusable."

Baloo huffed, blowing up shaggy bangs out of his face. He lifted one big hand and flicked Bagheera in the temple, making him jump and rub the abused spot, managing at least a dirty look. "It was not! Why are you so het up about this, man? It's a party! Quit tearin' yourself up about dancing. It's great—I do it all the time!"

You, Bagheera wanted to point out, don't grind with strange men in public. He really should've checked the show listings in the paper; a band as good as the one out there couldn't possibly escape the radar of a party-animal like Baloo, and he'd certainly gotten dressed up for the occasion. 

"Now, come on, what's gettin' you down?" Baloo asked reassuringly. "You looked so happy just a few minutes ago, Baghee, and now you look like you're gonna run." 

"A few minutes ago, I didn't know I was making such a fool of myself," he said quietly. He shrugged, wanting Baloo to get off his shoulder. It made him feel weak, like he might just collapse if he was given the chance. He was stronger than that! "I must've looked so ridiculous."

Baloo sighed and flicked him in the temple again, and Bagheera finally sprang into motion, snarling wordlessly and smacking him upside the head. It was hardly a blow at all, and it only made Baloo grin, but it relieved a little tension. "Now you're just bein' stupid. Did you see those guys out there? They couldn't take their eyes off you!"

His neck and cheeks stung with heat. Bagheera had known, intellectually, that Baloo had to know why he was here. He didn't just do things for spontaneity's sake—it had to be obvious that he was hunting. But he hadn't wanted him to actually call him on it. 

"In fact," Baloo went on, nudging his friend in the ribs playfully, "I'm pretty sure I'd be dead, if looks could kill. Couple a' green-eyed monsters out there wishin' I'd never been born…"

Jealousy? Over him? Ridiculous. "Didn't you know it was me you were dancing with?" Bagheera asked. "I mean, I know I'm a little…unusually dressed, but…"

"Well, it took me a little minute, and I was a little surprised, but yeah, I could pretty much tell. Man, I thought you knew it was me, too."

"If you knew it was me, why would you dance with me like that?" 

"When was I gonna get another chance? This is the first time I've ever seen you do it on your own—most times I gotta force you. And even then…you know I've never seen you dance like that. You were havin' fun, and it was cool to see it. It's contagious!"

Bagheera felt a little smile tugging at one corner of his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, sliding it down to scrub at his eyes. "I apologize, Baloo. I was embarrassed."

"Yeah, I know, but you got nothing to be embarrassed about! Now come on, come 'ere…"

Bagheera held up his hands, taking a step away. "Oh, no you don't! You don't have a shirt on!"

"Sure I do! Come on Baghee, you ol' sonofagun!" Baloo grabbed one of his arms and pulled him close, catching him up in an enormous bear hug and mussing his hair with a big hand. Bagheera futilely squirmed and struggled, but he was well and truly trapped. He grumbled and placed his arms around his friend, not nearly as reluctant as he'd rather be. 

"All right, all right, you ridiculous brute, let me go."

"And let somebody else steal my dance partner?" Bagheera started squirming again, cheeks burning hotly. Of course, the teasing. Baloo would never be cruel about, but nature demanded that he get his licks in.

"Get off!"

Baloo's response was cut short at the door swung open. Bagheera turned with his heart in his mouth. This just wasn't his night—if it wasn't dancing ridiculously with his best friend, it was being caught in the men's room of a gay bar with him. 

"Oh, how frightfully embarrassing. I beg your pardon."

He felt his hackles rise. This was getting absurd. Shere Khan stood just inside the doorway, one eyebrow lifted, wearing an amused smirk. For all that this might've indeed been 'frightfully embarrassing,' it appeared that the other man wasn't willing to do anything to resolve the problem.

Bagheera could feel an explanation on the tip of his tongue, but swallowed it back. He didn't need to explain himself to Shere Khan…why not let him wonder a little?

He shrugged one shoulder, applying his hands to Baloo's chest and attempting to push off. Baloo loosened his arms a little, but not quite enough for Bagheera to get out.

"Shere Khan. Been a while," Baloo observed. Bagheera darted him a confused look—why wasn't he letting him go?

"Quite. It's a pleasure to see you both once more. I can see that you are very…happy together."

Bagheera almost swallowed his own tongue, and then almost burst into laughter. Him and Baloo…together? There couldn't be two more diametrically opposed people on this earth! Clear-headed, calm, serious, responsible (the current evening aside) him and…Baloo? Easy-going, partying, excitable, chronically-irresponsible, straight Baloo? It was absurd! It was hilarious! It was—

Why was Baloo's hand on his ass?

He darted a quick glance up at his friend, and found himself on the receiving end of a discreet little half-wink. Oh, come on. Baloo couldn't be serious. He didn't need to do this for Shere Khan's sake.

"Yeah," Baloo said, leaning low into Bagheera's personal space. He blinked several times, startled as the other man rubbed their noses together. That had to be the most explicit Eskimo kiss in human history! "We are. Right, Baghee?"

Oh, why not. It wouldn't be right to leave Baloo hanging like this. Besides, it would only result in both of them looking like utter fools…and it was rather sweet of Baloo to be willing to pretend just to stick it to Shere Khan for Bagheera's sake. 

He pressed himself close. Gracious, but he had to admit that Baloo really was nicely built. All that muscle and hair…he ran his fingertips down the center of his friend's chest, pawing at him lightly. "I don't think 'happy' is a strong enough word, handsome."

"My best wishes," Shere Khan drawled, coming over to one of the sinks and washing his hands. "I assure you, I could not be happier for you."

"Thanks," Baloo said, and Bagheera almost jumped as the hand on his rump gave him a little squeeze. He stewed quietly over ways to get him back for that. "Whaddaya think, babe?" he asked in a soft tone, although there was certainly not a word that escaped Shere Khan's hearing. "You gettin' tired? Should I bring you home, take you to bed?"

Bagheera's eyes widened a bit. "Why you absolute shameless beast," he purred, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. This was fun. "Propositioning me in a men's room. I am horrified."

"That a no?" Baloo was leading him towards the door, a huge arm wrapped around him.

"It's a yes. Definitely a yes," he smirked, sparing a hand to give Shere Khan a little distracted wave. "Nice running into you. Maybe we—ooh, Baloo, get your hand off that."

The bathroom door banged shut behind them.

\--

They hurried out into the street, but on the way out, Bagheera got a healthy little thrill, realizing that quite a few eyes from the dance floor and the bar followed them out. He couldn't help but preen a little—oh yes, he still had it. Of course, they may have been looking at Baloo, but…he'd take what he could get.

Baloo was laughing. "I was pretty sure he was going to pop a blood vessel, the way he was looking at me! You sure you didn't break his tender heart, Baghee?"

"Positive," Bagheera smirked, swatting his friend's hand away from his lower back. "Now keep those to yourself. We're on a public street—there could be children out here."

"At one in the morning?"

"Fine. Maybe I just don't want to be groped at the moment."

"Got a lot of evidence in the past hour or so that contradicts that, Baghee…"

Bagheera reached up and smacked him, biting down a little grin. "Behave yourself, or I'm going to put you in the trunk to drive home. I don't think your bus runs at this hour."

"Heh, I'd knock your roof in if you tried." Baloo followed him back to Bagheera's car. Vehicles fell outside of 'the bare necessities', so if he wanted to go anywhere far, he always had to beg the car off of Bagheera. "Hey, Baghee?"

"Hmm?"

"You know, that band's playin' again tomorrow night. I'm not doin' anything…wanna go see 'em?"

Bagheera sighed to himself. "Well, I need to do laundry."

"Eugh."

"And I have that book I want to read."

"Bleh."

"And you have laundry, and dishes, and that yard work I asked you to do a week ago…"

"Baghee…" It was always amusing to watch the enormous man whine.

"You pull weeds for me, and I'll go see a band for you," Bagheera said primly, starting the ignition with his nose in the air. Baloo grinned.

"You got a deal, buddy."

\--

Scar watched Shere Khan stalk back from the men's, looking like he wanted to rip something—or preferably, someone—apart with his bare hands.

"Your quarry appears to have absconded," Scar observed, warm with quiet glee at his companion's obvious bad mood. 

"I did not ask your opinion." Shere Khan slipped back into his seat with perfect grace and knocked back his Scotch. Scar lifted an eyebrow—so it was going to be that kind of evening. 

"Tread wisely. I take it that your little meeting was unsuccessful?" 

"I do not wish to talk about it, Scar." He nearly licked his lips at the latent threat. Everything about Shere Khan was threatening, but this was as close to unrefined as he got.

Scar gave him a droll, mockingly sympathetic little pout and signaled to the bar for yet another round.


	2. On the Other Side of the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baloo's side of the scene in the club.

If asked, Baloo would confirm without much reluctance that he was not a fast mover, nor was he a particularly fast thinker. He could move fairly quick if he had to, but it was rarely necessary. There wasn't much that he saw a point in moving fast for—so far, the only things to get him to move with anything like hurry had been pretty urgent. They'd been things like tussles between his students that he'd had to break up, or that first airplane to America that he'd almost missed, or his mother's cooking…or, most recently, Bagheera in his skin-tight jeans.

That last one made everything speed up. It probably didn't bear thinking about, how he'd never felt his heart move as fast as it had with that first glance, not even in all the times he'd been obliged to hurry. 

Baloo was rather an expert on Bagheera-handling. He'd had years of practice, ever since they were kids, and frankly, not much had changed since then. Bagheera was still somehow stuck at the doorframes of the world, pretty convinced that he shouldn't be participating in anything fun at all, while something persuasive kept whispering in his ear that he should just go for it. If Baloo himself wasn't that whisper, he was doing everything he could to encourage it. 

When they were kids, it was all a lot easier. Bagheera had always been a total Mama's boy, and Ms. Kala, a single mom, had doted on her son. He'd been a reticent little boy, quiet and well-behaved, totally unlike his neighbors, the Sangitas. Baloo could still remember when they'd first met. He'd been having a good-natured little wrestle with his brothers, and had been out waiting in ambush on the side of the street. Six year-old Bagheera had spotted him, asked him why he was so dirty and why he was acting so strangely, and had found himself, along with Baloo, flattened on the dirt, ground into the mud by four other boys. 

Bagheera had been horrified. Once Baloo's brothers had left, he'd tugged Baloo around the back of his house and hosed them both off until he deemed them clean enough to take a real bath.

Baloo had liked the weird little kid. He had a good kick on him, as one of his brothers reported later, and he had good ideas. Since they were neighbors and classmates, Baloo had taken to hanging out with Bagheera, and they'd gradually become closer, until they were thick as thieves—Baloo was the brawn, and the action man, and even though Bagheera was generally unwilling to cause any type of mischief at all, he always had the best plans. They'd had other friends, Shere Khan and Kaa and Louie and stiff ol' Hathi, but it had always been a peripheral relationship at best; there was just a magnetic tug between them, and no matter how much they argued (and it seemed like all they ever did was argue), they were always together.

He'd been torn up when Ms. Kala accepted a job in America and packed her son up to move. Those years had stunk on ice; it seemed like the worst thing that could happen to him! He would've sworn he was the only sixteen-year-old on his own, and none of his other friends, as much fun as they could be, filled the protesting, stubborn, responsible hole left in his life by his Baghee. Even their weekly letters didn't make anything better.

By the time he was supposed to go to university, he knew he had to see his friend. He didn't care what a huge risk it was, how three years apart might've changed both of them and their friendship. All that mattered was meeting him again—and he knew that was totally irresponsible, but Bagheera had been dropping pretty unsubtle hints about American schools, and Bagheera was supposed to be the responsible one. If he was pushing for his new country's education system, it had to be good, right? Bagheera helped him look for scholarships and a student visa, and his parents, happy to have their son in school on someone else's dime, waved him off at the airport with loud insistence that he return on the holidays.

Bagheera had been waiting for him at the airport in America. Somehow, in three years, Bagheera had grown up from being the gawky little six-year-old Baloo had always remembered him as, into an actual adult. He was young yet, of course, but he was all black clothes and a black, beat-to-hell Toyota Corolla and unbridled enthusiasm for hard work. 

They'd had an argument before they could even complete the ride back to the Kala residence, and Baloo was so happy he thought he would pop. Ms. Kala smiled and welcomed him—she'd never appreciated his futile influence on her only son—and posted up a big sign on the refrigerator with the house rules. They started school in the fall, rooming on different floors in the same dorm, and since then, they'd barely been parted for more than a two-week vacation.

It was weird, that two people so totally different should be so close. They had almost nothing in common besides their birthplace, but he had more fun with Bagheera than he'd ever had with anyone else. Dancing was more fun when he was dragging his friend along, protesting and arguing; meals tasted better when Bagheera was there to disagree completely with his opinions on almost anything and everything; movies were more interesting when Bagheera was beside him, sprawled on the couch and discreetly stealing popcorn from the bowl on Baloo's lap. 

Bagheera had taken it hard when Ms. Kala died, two years after they graduated from college. He'd inherited everything, and though he tried his best to be stony and dignified in public, at the funeral and the burial, Baloo'd sat beside him on the couch and watched his best friend really cry, for what might've been the first time his life. Bagheera was obviously embarrassed to be seen like that, but Baloo was naturally empathetic, and just held his friend in a bear hug and refused to let him go, even when Bagheera'd fallen asleep on his chest, stinking of sorrow and exhausted by grief. When Bagheera announced the next day that he was selling the house and asked Baloo if he wanted to be his roommate, he'd agreed immediately, knowing that there was no talking his friend out of a step like that, if he had made up his rational, logical mind.

Ever since then, they'd lived in a nice little townhouse on a quiet street. Baloo had always liked children, and sought a niche in the local public high school. He'd known that Bagheera had become a guidance counselor because he was an excellent planner and could help even the most scatter-brained of people find a path to walk to meet their goals, and he had a constantly-repressed affection for children. Baloo thought about becoming a psychologist, but the school load wasn't for him, and he didn't really want to 'cure' anybody…just be there for them, try to help them get a grip on where they were and what they could do to live a better life. He'd said about as much in an interview with Walt Disney High, the last school on his list—Baghee was already working there, after all, they didn't need the two of them fightin' and fussin' all the time. He had a bachelor's in music with a minor in education, and somehow found himself hired as the other guidance counselor. He'd thought it was hilarious; Bagheera disagreed, so all was right with the world. But Baloo could pony up his part of the rent, so nothing ever got said against it. It was just generally known amongst the students that if you had a practical problem, you went to talk to Mr. Bagheera. If you had a personal one, head straight for Baloo (no Mister—he didn't feel like a Mister, after all).

America had been good to him, but one thing he'd immediately noticed that didn't really seem to faze anyone else was the sheer amount of stuff people had. And what they had, they didn't want. They were always wanting more, and it never seemed to make anybody feel better. As far as Baloo was concerned, as long as he had a full belly and a place to live, he couldn't be happier. Bagheera didn't like the way he wore his clothes until he wore through them, but…well…he wanted to get his money's worth! (He'd been delighted when he found out he could just order clothes from catalogues and didn't need to go to malls.) He always cautioned his students to just focus on the bare necessities of life—when you had what you needed, what you wanted didn't seem as important. Stick with chasing what was necessary, and let the rest slide by; it worked perfectly for him, after all.

Shere Khan had been the one to throw the monkey-wrench into everything. Baloo had been pleased when Bagheera came home one night with the announcement that he'd run into their old friend at a coffee shop, and that Shere Khan had moved to America recently. Baloo'd said something about them getting together for dinner, reconnecting and seeing what everybody had been up to, but he remembered that Bagheera had looked strange. He'd had this funny little smile on his face that Baloo had never seen before. He knew that Bagheera and Shere Khan had always gotten along really well, for what reason Baloo couldn't really tell, but…that was a weird smile…

It had become clear, eventually. Baloo came home one night from the clubs, having scored the phone number of this gorgeous little vixen named Marion, and was feeling like making Baghee watch stupid old horror movies with him. He'd been full of music and good will towards men, and had been a little surprised to find that not only was Bagheera nowhere to be found, his bedroom door was locked. He was just about to knock and make things were okay, when he heard the gasps, a steady, rhythmic thumping noise coming from inside the room and the low rumble of a voice that sounded very much like Shere Khan.

That might actually rank as one of the times he'd moved fastest. 

Baloo thought to himself that he definitely should be happy about Bagheera having a boyfriend. After all, Baloo himself had had some pretty fast times, and a couple of awfully pleasant memories of the boys' dorm at school. Love was love, as far as he was concerned, and if Baghee was happy, that was all he cared about. He just wished that Bagheera hadn't taken the attic room as his own, because it meant that that thumping bed was right above Baloo's bedroom, and some pretty impassioned noises floated down and embarrassed the heck out of him. He didn't sleep much that night.

The problem was that Bagheera didn't act like he was happy. Whenever Baloo renewed his suggestion that they invite Shere Khan over for dinner, Bagheera had always been distracted or changed the subject. Something about it didn't sit well with Baloo. Was Bagheera embarrassed? Was he hiding? Because if Bagheera was hiding, yowling like a cat in heat at two in the morning probably wasn't the best strategy.

It was weird, thinking of Baghee as a sexual creature, but once he'd thought of it…man, it just didn't go away. He could easily see where Shere Khan was coming from, at least—Bagheera kept a tight rein on himself, but even in little bitty things, like the way he walked or that little smirk he got when he was amused, there was this intense, sexy vibe underlying it. Bagheera wasn't exactly quiet, but he was uptight, and he was extremely dignified. It made Baloo think of repression, and exactly what sort of boil was going on under his friend's cool surface. Apparently Shere Khan had managed to get him to let off a little steam. Heh, it was kind of funny, he'd always heard that if you could get under the outer shell of a refined type like Baghee, there was a real hellcat lurking just underneath. It was pretty odd to imagine Bagheera being like that in bed, but it was also pretty sexy…

Whoo. Less thought in that direction would probably behoove him, Baloo figured. 

Baloo kept waiting to hear more about Bagheera's relationship with Shere Khan. They came home together on a regular basis, but only ever at night, and he never actually saw Shere Khan in the house. (Well, except for one memorable occasion, and he'd just say that Bagheera was more than just linguistically talented when it came to his mouth, and leave it at that. Baloo had. In fact, he'd left it at that at high speed and stayed out until late the next morning, trying to blitz the memory out of his head with music and coffee. A man couldn't even live in his own house anymore!) But the only thing he'd ever heard about was the break-up.

As far as he'd known up until that point, Bagheera drank Shirley Temples and got drunk on the carbonation. Watching his friend assiduously throwing back a bottle of wine, the glass being refilled more and more shakily each time, was something of a shock. Bagheera had told him how they'd split up. That was all. Baloo had felt his heart sink for his friend's sake—he was clearly upset. It had been about a year since that first surprise; had they fallen in love during that time? It certainly didn't look like it, not the way Bagheera told the story.

He'd reassured Bagheera, telling him that he'd find someone new. Honestly, he almost hoped he wouldn't. Something in his guts just hated the idea, and he wasn't sure why. At first, he might've thought that it just wasn't fitting for someone as serious and dignified as Bagheera to be doing anything as unrefined as having a boyfriend, but when he thought about it, he knew that every now and then, there would just be the slightest hint, in his walk or his voice or his expressions, that would reveal more sex appeal than Baloo could remember seeing in anyone else. It wasn't a personality issue at all. 

He'd thought about it a little, what Bagheera's ideal boyfriend would be like. It wasn't a fruitful endeavor. As much as Baghee could run at the mouth if given the slightest chance, there were certain things that he Did Not Talk About. The big one was anything sexual. Zip. Nada. Nothing. In fact, Baloo hadn't actually known about Bagheera's sexuality one way or the other until just recently. If he wanted to know anything about his friend's romantic life, he'd have to find it out on his own.

He didn't really want to find out. The idea made his innards feel hot and a little sick, like his stomach was on a permanent roller coaster. 

So when he'd found Baghee out on the dance floor…well, it'd been a surprise. Baloo liked The Jungle—he made it a point to hit it up at least once a month. They always had great bands, and the scene was fun, flirtatious and relaxed and friendly. He never brought home strangers, but he'd made some friends on this scene, at least as acquaintances, and it was fun to dance and people-watch. The scenery, after all, was extremely pleasant.

That Friday, he'd been dancing for hours. The band on the stage knew how to swing—he'd picked up a few CDs in the past, but there was nothing like seeing them live. They were deep in the middle of a hot, sultry voodoo groove when Baloo'd looked around and seen a strangely familiar shape. Curious, he'd gotten a little closer, and felt his jaw drop as the figure started to move.

Oh yeah. He recognized those hips. He'd been paying those hips, and the man attached to them, a discomfort-inducing amount of attention in the past months. Of course, he'd never seen those hips moving like this, unrestrained and rhythmic, coy and smooth and sexy, flaunting themselves and the rest of the figure. He hadn't known that Bagheera knew such clothes existed, much less wore them. He looked tousled, like he'd been exercising, or doing something strenuous—the five o'clock shadow around his jaw and chin made him look a little rough, like he just tumbled out of bed. The muscle shirt bared arms, neck, and a little chest, and what wasn't on display was being stroked and clung to by soft, fitted cotton. The jeans were heart-stopping—how had he managed to fit into them? They weren't exactly painted on, but they were damn close, and…wow. He could really shake it, couldn't he? And all of it was…nice…

His knees had gone strangely weak as Bagheera opened his eyes just a bit—nobody really had bedroom eyes like that, he had to be putting that on, but…geez—and glanced around, smirking to himself. It looked like Baloo hadn't been the only one staring, and Bagheera was enjoying the attention. Bagheera had danced himself into a little pocket in the crowd, and he was easily the smallest there…he was pretty sure the rest of the guys would qualify as 'bears.' Had that been intentional?

Baloo saw one of the guys coming up over to Bagheera. The smaller man had his eyes closed, riding the beat, and didn't notice. Something came over Baloo, some impulse forcing him to go over there and dance with him. After all, that was his Baghee, right? If anyone should be dancing with him, it should be the guy who'd been trying to get him to dance for almost twenty-eight years.

Baloo was faster, even if he was a bit further away, and gave the other guy a pretty sharp look. He didn't want to be a jerk, but…well…the guy backed off, and Baloo deliberately thought no more about it. He took a step closer as the song wound down, smiling a little as Bagheera bumped him with his left hip. Baghee only look over his shoulder a bit, and in the bit of a lull, he was close enough to hear a little purr coming from his friend. That little noise put a big stupid grin on his face. Bagheera shimmied in invitation, and Baloo automatically returned the gesture, eager to see what his friend had been locking up all this time.

Apparently, there was quite a lot. Some old line about still waters running deep popped into Baloo's head as they started out simply enough, a bit of a slide, a bit of a shake. Watching the way Bagheera rocked his hips and shoulders, several smooth, rhythmic, sensual movements made his hips buck unexpectedly. He was kind of embarrassed, about to apologize, since Bagheera's wide eyes made it clear that he hadn't been expecting it, but the way Bagheera grinned and just pushed back against him, riding Baloo's movement, made it immediately, bizarrely worth it. 

Bagheera backed up against him, getting awfully comfy. Baloo could feel that the big dumb smile was still smeared all over his face, but somehow he couldn't get himself to wipe it off. Not even when Baghee turned around and planted both hands on his chest, still sliding and swaying. From the way Bagheera was smiling, Baloo guessed that he'd been recognized, and Bagheera was amused—the other man was just glad he hadn't stopped dancing, but he felt his heart climb up into his throat as Baghee ran both hands down his chest. Baloo blinked rapidly, his heart racing as Bagheera touched him lightly; how was it possible that his friend be burning hot like this? That couldn't be healthy—that soft little touch was flirtatious as hell, of course, but it seemed like it was going to burn and left trails in his skin where Bagheera'd been.

He got a grip in time for Bagheera to slip away from him, just enough to keep from trembling as the smaller man slipped around him, keeping well-within Baloo's personal space. Baloo was recognizing, reluctantly, that he was turned on. Bagheera seemed to know it was him, and he was dancing with him like this, and…damn. He really shouldn't be enjoying this so much, but could he be blamed? After all, Baghee wasn't exactly being discreet. Why was he touching him like this—this was definitely not a friendly dance! Was Bagheera teasing him? 

Or did Bagheera really want to touch him? That was a crazy thought…but man, it was an interesting one. He'd swallow boulders if Baghee didn't know exactly what he was doing, but was he really intending to turn all this attention on Baloo? Was this something Bagheera'd been hiding from him, and he'd finally decided to make a move on it? The idea of Bagheera wanting him wasn't as shocking as it probably should have been, and it made a hot little glow burn somewhere in his chest. It made Baloo's stomach clench up in a weirdly pleasant way, and as Bagheera turned back around, he experimentally rubbed his hips forward, just checking appearances. Bagheera smirked and ground back against him a little, and it was so difficult not to let that get to him. Geez, but Bagheera had been hiding more than just a little light under a bushel!

Yeah…maybe Bagheera wanted him. Maybe he was teasing, but maybe he wasn't just making fun of him. It made him feel much happier than he was almost certain it should. He'd always loved Bagheera, anyway, just not in a romantic way. But if Baghee was interested…and it'd been so hard to stick to necessities and not think about something he'd found that he was almost afraid to admit he wanted. Ever since Shere Khan had inadvertently opened his eyes, he couldn't help but notice how good-looking Bagheera was, how smokin' hot his friend could be.

Then Baghee'd turned around with that flirty little smile on his mouth, and Baloo'd replied with a light comment, amused by the sudden coyness. But Bagheera's expression made him stop laughing immediately—he looked suddenly like he wanted to melt into the floor. Bagheera went even paler than usual, and Baloo realized almost immediately what was wrong. Bagheera hadn't realized who he was dancing with.

Baloo felt his heart sink at that thought. But then again, it really should've been obvious! After all, had Bagheera ever given him even the smallest hint that he would be interested in him outside of their friendship? It was silly to get all excited about something as outlandish as all that, but…

Well, but nothing! If the way Bagheera was dragging him along by the sleeve and gritting his teeth, he had more important things to be worried about. Baghee did not look happy. Baloo could deal with his own weird, crazy feelings, as soon as he was sure that Bagheera wasn't finally going to snap.

"Why didn't you tell me it was you? You just let me make a fool of myself!" Whoo boy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his friend this angry, but the patent absurdity of the statement made him stagger a little.

"What? No, Baghee, you were great! I—"

"You knew I didn't know it was you! I never would've…done that!"

Ow, man. "But I—"

"What are you even doing here? Don't you know what kind of—Baloo, I can't believe you let me humiliate myself like that!"

Bagheera'd risen up on his toes, his fury apparently too intense to be borne just standing in place. Baloo carefully pushed him back down to the floor, insisting on a deep, slow breath. He was worried to see Bagheera shaking—behind his obvious anger, there was something more desperate lurking around him, and he hated to think that his friend was really upset about this. He'd been so happy to see Bagheera letting loose and having fun, and the way that fun had manifested had just been the cherry on the top. If Bagheera'd just relax a little more often, he wouldn't be so worked up now.

"Now, come on, Baghee, think," he said gently, the weight of years of Bagheera-handling experience behind his tone. "I wouldn't do somethin' like that to you. You didn't humiliate nothing; you looked great out there! I didn't know you could dance like that!"

Bagheera visibly swallowed and wrapped his arms around himself, mumbling about something he 'never should've', and Baloo just wanted to hug him. Man, this little weirdo was going to be the death of him… He looked nervous and unhappy and embarrassed as hell, and Baloo knew he was beating himself up over it. Hey, he wasn't too happy about it either, that Bagheera hadn't been aware who his partner was, but at least he wasn't looking like he was about to try to escape from sheer humiliation. Seeing his already-uptight friend getting down on himself just wasn't making anything better. If he'd just let himself be happy every once in a while…heck, Baloo'd be willing to try to make him happy, if he just wouldn't have to feel as miserable as he did now.

"Why're you saying a dumb thing like that? Of course you should've! I don't even know what you should've, but you definitely should've!" He gave Bagheera a smile, but his friend just winced. 

"I'm…sorry for…doing that, Baloo, it was inexcusable."

Baloo knew that the root of the issue didn't lie with him, but his ego was still totally confused. Was Bagheera apologizing for doing something he thought Baloo didn't want? (Exactly what part of someone rubbing their hips against his ass didn't he understand, incidentally?) Or was he suggesting that, now that he knew who he'd been dancing with, his behavior was suddenly reprehensible? Would it have been better for him to be dancing with a total stranger?

Baloo blew up his bangs in annoyance. There was no way he would completely get a grip on Bagheera's ideas about propriety and decency, not if he had a map, a comprehensive history, and a native guide. He flicked Bagheera in the temple, trying to knock a little sense into him, restore the familiar tension of argument and friendliness. 

"It was not! Why are you so het up about this, man? It's a party! Quit tearin' yourself up about dancing. It's great—I do it all the time!" Baloo watched Bagheera shift his weight and sighed, wanting to somehow make this all better. "Now, come on, what's gettin' you down? You looked so happy just a few minutes ago, Baghee, and now you look like you're gonna run." 

"A few minutes ago, I didn't know I was making such a fool of myself. I must've looked so ridiculous."

Baloo blinked as he suddenly got the picture. Bagheera wasn't talking about there being anything wrong with what they'd been doing. He was worried about personally looking stupid. Okay, yeah, that was pretty selfish, but hey, it wasn't any worse than Baloo wanting to come here just to satisfy a craving for music, and at least he was finally getting some insight. Bagheera had been here because he wanted to be seen looking good! He must've come here wanting to be admired—no wonder he'd looked so pleased when he saw those smiles and stares! He must've come to this club tonight because he wanted to dance like he had danced…he wanted to be brazen and flirty and he'd just gone out and done it! If Baloo wasn't annoyed with how blind he was, he'd be so proud!

Baloo flicked him again, pleased when Bagheera finally lashed out and landed a little kitten-tap on the side of his head. At least he looked a little less guarded now.

"Now you're just bein' stupid. Did you see those guys out there? They couldn't take their eyes off you!" It was true. Baloo'd seen them. Baloo'd been one. Bagheera's cheeks and neck were blushing, and Baloo had to push the envelope a little, seeing such a reaction from his friend. He chuckled. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead, if looks could kill. Couple a' green-eyed monsters out there wishin' I'd never been born…"

"Didn't you know it was me you were dancing with?" Bagheera asked. "I mean, I know I'm a little…unusually dressed, but…"

"Well, it took me a little minute, and I was a little surprised, but yeah, I could pretty much tell. Man, I thought you knew it was me, too."

"If you knew it was me, why would you dance with me like that?" In a just world, Baloo would just ask what, precisely, made Bagheera think anyone could resist dancing with him like that? It had become pretty clear that this whole thing had been a mistake, so Baloo trod lightly, using a little finesse.

"When was I gonna get another chance? This is the first time I've ever seen you do it on your own—most times I gotta force you. And even then…you know I've never seen you dance like that. You were havin' fun, and it was cool to see it. It's contagious!"

That managed to tease a little smile out of Bagheera. "I apologize, Baloo. I was embarrassed."

Baloo grinned. "Yeah, I know, but you got nothing to be embarrassed about! Now come on, come 'ere…"

Bagheera's eyes widened, and he took a step away, holding up his hands to ward him off. "Oh, no you don't! You don't have a shirt on!"

Tough. He wanted a hug, and he deserved it. Bagheera was going to have to suffer it—darned if the guy couldn't use a little squeeze himself, by the looks of things. "Sure I do! Come on Baghee, you ol' sonofagun!"

Baloo snatched him and caught him up, and Bagheera wriggled and squirmed, trying to escape. That had an awkward effect on him—damn it, he really, really shouldn't be thinking this kind of thing about Baghee, not after it was so clear that he wasn't interested. After a moment, Bagheera sighed, slowly wrapping his own arms around the larger man.

"All right, all right, you ridiculous brute, let me go."

"And let somebody else steal my dance partner?" He could see Bagheera's face flush as he started squirming again, and he laughed, unable to prevent himself from finding that kinda cute. Bagheera didn't really think he'd get away with this Scot-free, did he? Come on, this was way too good to pass up!

"Get off!"

He'd been about to respond with some silly little innuendo when the door opened. Bagheera's head snapped around, and Baloo lifted his eyebrows, surprised. Well, this was just like old home week, wasn't it? Gang's all here.

"Oh, how frightfully embarrassing. I beg your pardon."

Bagheera went still and stiff in his arms, and Baloo felt his heart go out to him a little. Even though he'd talked his friend down from the precipice of mortification, he was still pretty embarrassed, and someone like Shere Khan wasn't making things any easier on him…and it was probably even worse, with him being Baghee's ex-boyfriend. Baloo hadn't been charitably disposed towards their mutual acquaintance, not since he'd driven Baghee to drink over a break-up. Whether wounded or not, Bagheera had been upset, and Shere Khan had been pretty darn responsible for it.

Bagheera wasn't stammering out an explanation. That in itself was unusual, and as Baloo watched him give a little one-shouldered shrug, he decided to hold onto him a little, just to keep him safe. Safe from what, well, he wasn't sure, but some instinct was telling him to hold on, and he didn't question it.

"Shere Khan. Been a while," Baloo said, trying to be polite.

"Quite. It's a pleasure to see you both once more. I can see that you are very…happy together."

What? Oh! Them…together? Well, he couldn't say that he'd never thought of it himself, even if it had really only been in the last half-hour that it had been any serious consideration. He looked again at Shere Khan. He looked not more than politely interested, but there was a vein in his left temple that was almost pulsing, telling a very different story. Those cold, creepy hazel eyes were stuck on Bagheera, making a quick sweep that nevertheless seemed to linger pretty intensely.

Baloo almost grinned. Shere Khan was jealous. He was jealous, and he wasn't about to admit it. 

Time for a little payback, then. Bagheera didn't know he wanted it, now, but he'd thank him later.

He slid his hand down to Baghee's rump. And, well…it was sleazy, yeah, but also convincing. It was all acting. If he enjoyed his role, it'd be more realistic.

Bagheera gave him a shocked, suspicious look, eyes widening a bit as he caught Baloo's wink. He looked hesitant, then skeptical. Pretty sure Baghee wouldn't give him away, Baloo leaned down towards him and nuzzled their noses together. He could feel Bagheera blinking and couldn't help but smile a bit. 

"Yeah, we are. Right, Baghee?" he replied, trusting Bagheera to go with it. His cheeks were still a little pink, and Baloo kept his eyes firmly on his friend. Bagheera hesitated for the quickest little second, then smirked, and put a hand on Baloo's bare chest. Baloo almost shivered as Bagheera dragged a nice, slow, savoring touch down his front—yeah, just as hot as he remembered.

Bagheera leaned close and purred, "I don't think 'happy' is a strong enough word, handsome." Whoo, Baghee…

"My best wishes," Shere Khan drawled, ruining the moment. Why'd he have to be here? Maybe they could rehearse these roles a little more in private, without an audience, explore their characters, huh? (Man, when did he turn into such a horn dog, and over his oldest friend?) At least he looked like he wanted to leave a Baloo-shaped smear on the floor. A vindictive little spike of pleasure shook him. "I assure you, I could not be happier for you."

"Thanks." Baloo gave Bagheera's rear a little squeeze. Mm, nice. "Whaddaya think, babe?" he asked, more of a stage whisper than an actual soft tone. "You gettin' tired? Should I bring you home, take you to bed?"

Bagheera hummed softly, widening his eyes with artificial modesty. "Why you absolute shameless beast," he purred, and damn, it went straight to a place it shouldn't go. "Propositioning me in a men's room. I am horrified."

Deciding that they'd better make a quick exit, Baloo steered him to the door, asking, "That a no?" 

"It's a yes. Definitely a yes," Bagheera murmured. He waved over his shoulder to Shere Khan. "Nice running into you. Maybe we—" Baloo gave him a little swat on the bottom, grinning as his friend jumped a bit and smiled broadly. "Ooh, Baloo, get your hand off that…"

\--

Later that night, Baloo laid awake for a while, head in a whirl. He wasn't used to being this conflicted over, heck, anything, but something about the whole situation gave him pause. Time to look at the facts.

On the one hand, Bagheera obviously thought he was hot stuff. Baloo smiled broadly. That, at least, was perfectly clear: without even knowing who he was, Baghee had been more than willing to dance with him, and it had been some pretty sexy behavior. Bagheera would never dance like that with anyone he didn't think had the goods. And there was that little scene in the men's…you didn't stroke a guy's chest like that or let him grope you on the hiney if you thought he was gross, not even out of friendship.

But on the other hand, Baghee'd been horrified when he found out who he'd been dancing with. Maybe he had some sex appeal going for him, but maybe years of friendship and general closeness had made some marks on his record that outweighed raw sexuality. Bagheera had had plenty of time to see him at his worst and his least attractive…were those too much, and locked him at the nevertheless lofty height of best-friendship?

But back on that first hand, Bagheera had gone from frothing volcanic anger to bashful smiles in under ten minutes, and all because Baloo had been there to talk him down. No one knew Bagheera like he did. No one else could put him to ease so easily. And no one else could get him to go along on something silly and deceitful, even if it was a harmless deceit, but Baloo. And Bagheera had agreed to go out again tomorrow night, even if chores had to be exchanged for it. It was more than he'd ever gotten out of Baghee before.

On that second hand, though, that could all be a sign of how excellent a friendship they had, and what closeness they shared. It didn't necessarily hint at anything romantic, and Baloo knew now that he wanted romance. He had done since before Bagheera and Shere Khan had broken up, when it was a quiet, stealthy jealous hanging around in his heart. And he wanted to try it now, because even though it was risky and scary and definitely ill-advised, he'd never felt as good as he had when he thought Bagheera wanted him.

Bagheera was his—end of story. His best friend, and now, well…well, he wanted to see if they could do it. He knew their friendship was strong enough to survive just about anything, and if Bagheera wanted to, then Baloo wanted to take a crack at being together. True love, in Baloo's opinion, had always just seemed to be a fantastic friendship and a heaping helping of sexual attraction. They'd always had one, and suddenly, in Baloo's book, there was the other one. Maybe…maybe if he could get real subtle, get the idea of float in Bagheera's head, so it was almost like he'd thought of it himself…and if it didn't work out, hey—they were still friends. He'd just have to wait until Bagheera was old and fogey and didn't turn him on any more.

He had doubts about this ever actually happening. Old, sure, and Bagheera was already the most fogey-ish twenty-eight year-old Baloo had ever met, but he couldn't imagine a time when Bagheera wouldn't be hot. He was hot now—he was hot in retrospect—he was probably going to continue to be hot. That was simply the fact Baloo would have to live with.

But how to float the idea? 

\--

Baloo had never tried to woo anyone before—it all came pretty naturally, when he wanted to try it. But his little not-really-date with Baghee on Saturday night was a total dud. Bagheera dressed like he'd just come off work, clean-shaven and prim as a picture. No matter how much Baloo had tried to get him out on the dance floor, Bagheera had refused, even though it was reluctant. Baloo knew it was reluctant, because Bagheera spent the whole night tapping his feet and trying to repress little ticks of his hips to the beat, quietly nursing a mocktail at the bar. There was almost no hint of the happy, uninhibited creature that had been tearing up the dance floor a mere night ago. 

Baloo was going to need some help. Luckily, he already had a few people he could ask.

Monsieur Lumiere had, naturally, been the first one to pop into his head. Of course, the problem with Lumiere was that he was a huge gossip, and that could only complicate things. He'd have to swear him to silence, and even that was a crapshoot. The French might be hopeless romantics, but asking Lumiere for anything would cause the man to become personally involved. For the sake of the pride of his skills, he would push and shove until his goal was accomplished—it had happened the last time he was challenged to make a soufflé so perfect it would make those who ate it weep, and he'd been successful then, but only at the last minute and on the edge of serious bloodshed. As that was only a display of cooking skill, Baloo shuddered to think what the consequences would be with a sticky romantic problem, when l'art l'amour was, after all, Lumiere's raison d'etre.

Beyond that, for almost as long as Baloo had been working at Disney High, Lumiere had been attempting to 'romance' Professor Cogsworth, and he'd been almost completely unsuccessful. Unfortunately, Lumiere seemed totally unfazed by Cogsworth's ceaseless resistance, and Bagheera and Cogsworth were more alike than Baloo really wanted to think about. How could Lumiere give any good advice when he himself wasn't cutting it, and with years of experience?

Still, the only other option was to go to Mr. Sebastian, who was quietly famous his romanticism, but he didn't know the taciturn music teacher as well as the outgoing Home Economics instructor. He'd be very careful talking to Lumiere, and work his way down the list if it didn't work.

Making a fairly accurate guess on Monday afternoon after school, Baloo knocked on Professor Cogsworth's door. A stuttering voice invited him in, and he was rather unsurprised by the tableau before him. Cogsworth was behind his desk, assiduously processing some type of paper work, looking a bit flushed and sweaty, while Monsieur Lumiere was perched on the edge of his desk, half-seated on it, one leg propped up in a rather Mrs. Robinson-esqe fashion. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, and he took a smiling drag of smoke as he looked over at Baloo. Cogsworth looked up as well, but Lumiere's shapely limbs were distractingly in his line of vision, and he made a pinched little expression, pushing Lumiere's leg off the desk. Lumiere grinned and covered the hand on his thigh with his own fingers, allowing Cogsworth to dart away as if burned with little more than a saucy wink.

Not surprising behavior, but still a little embarrassing. Baloo shifted in the doorway.

"Bon après midi, Monsieur Sangita," Lumiere said with a smile.

"Yes, hello," Cogsworth echoed. "Can I help you with anything?" He glanced up at one of the clocks adorning the office.

"Actually, Monsieur Lumiere, can I speak to you for a minute?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, sorry to interrupt you."

"You didn't interrupt anything," Cogsworth insisted stubbornly. "I was just leaving, actually."

"This is news to me," Lumiere said with a little grin. Cogsworth rolled his eyes and began packing his briefcase. "But yes, of course, Monsieur, let us chat." The Frenchman lifted himself effortlessly from the desk, brushing himself off. He stubbed out his cigarette in an ash tray, waving a bit of smoke away from his face and smiling. "A little walk, perhaps? It is tres beau outside, after all…"

It was a nice day, Baloo had to admit. A little cool for his taste, but it was good to get out in the sun after a whole day inside. That was the one thing he really didn't like about school—it would be great if they could do more outdoors.

"So tell me, Monsieur, how may I help? I only live to serve!" Lumiere had lit a new cigarette. Baloo didn't want to think about the way his lungs must look from all that smoking.

"Well, call me Baloo, if you don't mind. Now, I know this is going to sound a little crazy, but since we're both off the clock, I was hopin' you could gimme a little advice."

Lumiere's eyes took on a gleam that sent of warning bells in Baloo's head. It wasn't a threatening look, just extremely eager. That was enough to scare him. "Bien sur! Confess to me, Baloo, tell Papa Lumiere all about it! It is a problem with une fille, n'est pas?"

French had never been his strong suit. "Uh, no, n'est. I mean, it's, yeah, romantic, but it's, uh, not about a girl."

Lumiere patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. "I apprehend perfectly! But you have come to the right place, my friend! Few have such extensive experience in love…you are wise to seek me!"

Whoo boy. "Yeah, I thought so. Look, see, I'm a little stuck. Maybe you can help me?"

"A pleasure, mon ami. Tell me, do I know this gentleman?" Lumiere's eyes had a sly cast. 

"Well, eh, you might. Here, let's just put it this way…I don't want him to know just yet how I feel, but we're pretty close. He can read me like a book. I'd like to make him think it's his idea…let him be the one to make the first move, you know? No pressure and that. Have you ever done something like that before?"

"Myself? Non, it was never necessary…they flock to me, like helpless moths to the flame." Lumiere winked. "But I need a bit more information, cher, tell me—have you ever had a relationship of this type before?"

"You mean with a guy? Not really. I've messed around a little, but it wasn't anything serious. I never really thought that guys needed romance, but I just want to make sure I do this right."

Lumiere tutted, gesturing grandly with his cigarette. "You Americans. You are almost as bad as the English—so convinced that romance is non-essential. I do not know how you all have survived this far and can call yourselves happy."

Baloo lifted an eyebrow. "I'm Indian."

"Almost as bad. I return to the point." Lumiere took a drag. "What you need, petit, is a little bit of thought, a little care. This gentleman of yours, what is he like?"

"Around five seven, youngish kinda guy, dark hair, nice eyes, on the slim side—"

"Non, non, non, s'il vous plait! His personality, Baloo, his esprit! You are close, yes? What does he like?"

He didn't want to give out too much detail. Lumiere might seem flighty and distracted, but Baloo got the sense that everything he said was careful, everything he did geared to finding out his would-be paramour's identity. "He…he likes meat, and he doesn't like anyone to know it—he's kind of a lapsed vegetarian, but he still thinks he should be keeping up on it, so he kind of starves himself and sneaks bacon every once in a while. He spends a lot of time reading and going for runs. When we're together, we usually watch movies together or eat, but mostly we talk. He's fussy and neat, and he's stubborn as anything—seems like we're always arguing, can't agree on anything, but it's friendly-like, and I think he likes it a lot more than he lets on. He likes cats. Got two cute little ones at home that he just loves, but he's one of these guys that doesn't like to let other people think he's just a big softy, which of course he is. He likes being respectable and dignified and cautious, but I know he's got a big heart and he really wants to enjoy his life, but, I don't know, maybe he's afraid, or he's embarrassed, or something… He's always doing what he thinks he should be doing, but I know there's a lot more that wants to do and he never does."

"Ah, I think I understand," Lumiere said with a smile. "I have fallen prey to that type of man before. So broken, oui, but such potential! They are so full of promise, they could be magnifique! They are trying so hard to be happy, and they are so afraid…and you know you can be the one to make that light shine in their eyes, to show them how to really live…yes, I see the appeal." He blew out a plume of smoke. "And Monsieur Bagheera is rather easy on the eyes, as well."

Baloo was nodding along, struck by his colleague's insight, until he dropped the name. Baloo gave him a firm look. "Don't tell him. I'm swearing you to secrecy, man. I can't have any gossip about this if it's going to work!"

"Rest easy, petit, be calm!" Lumiere said with a winning smile. Where, exactly, was he getting the impulse to call a man a foot taller and twice, three times as broad as him 'petit'? "I am silent as the grave. No, I see your predicament…he will not come to you without a little push, and you are wearied of waiting. You wish to try your luck. Tres bon! I am proud! It would be an honor, truly, to act as your guide…I know so little about your beloved, but I would delight to learn more. Follow my lead, cher, and you cannot go wrong!"

Baloo wisely kept silent. He was pretty sure that he could indeed go wrong, and by a lot, but he was willing to give it a shot. The only alternative was to sit around and do nothing, and he couldn't take any more of that.

"All right," Baloo said. "What do we do?"


	3. Lumiere's Step-by-Step Guide to Flawless Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lumiere's indispensable advice, complete with demonstrations thanks to the help of his lovely assistant, Cogsworth.
> 
> Oh, and Pleakley needs advice.

Step One: Begin carefully. Show an interest in them—show that you like to be around them. 

"Wait. There are steps? No one said anything about steps," Baloo said, two weeks after that first conversation. At last, they were meeting, after some apparently rigorously preparation on Lumiere's part, but Baloo couldn't say he was too impressed, so far. The Frenchman smiled. 

"This is a gradual process, mon ami, and like all delicate, beautiful dances, there are special steps."

"You've really got this all worked out, haven't you?" Baloo asked, sipping coffee in the teacher's lounge. Lumiere had his arm slung around Professor Cogsworth, one hand on the other man's chest. He was smirking and leaning on the shorter man a bit. Cogsworth was high in color and giving his companion a slight grimace.

"Why have I been pulled into this farce? I have things to do, you know!"

"Bah, we have an hour before classes shall begin. Worlds of time. You are my partner, mon cher, I cannot possibly perform without you!" Aping a swoon, Lumiere draped himself over Cogsworth's frame. The stocky man grumbled and protested, trying to keep Lumiere from melting to the floor.

"So that's how you show an interest? That's probably not for me. I think I'd crush him." Baloo was careful not to name names. While he frankly didn't put it past Lumiere to explain to Cogsworth in lurid detail why they were here, he didn't see a point in outing himself if Cogsworth didn't know. Lumiere would probably have more fun simply confusing Cogsworth than he would enlightening him, anyway. "Plus, we're pretty close. I know a lot about his interests already."

The Business Management teacher gave the limp Lumiere a furious look. "Lumiere. What, exactly, have I been brought here to do?"

Lumiere gave his friend a dazzling smile. "We are guiding the path of true love, mon ami!"

It was by far too early to be making statements like that, in Baloo's opinion, but he knew better than to get involved. Let them work it out amongst themselves and come back to reality when they were ready. 

"No! I refuse! This is utterly against regulations, as you well know, and I will not allow it to happen under my watch! What if the principal should find out? Or the school board?" Cogsworth pushed Lumiere until the gawky Frenchman was standing upright under his own power. On the way up, Lumiere rolled his eyes and made the 'talk talk talk' gesture with his hand.

"Cogsworth, surely it will not matter if we help a little! Besides, we must have some social life, yes, some little light in our lives? Not everything can be work, mon ami, and for another hour, we are off the clock!"

"And you are using me as your prop?"

"Partner, petit, teacher's aide, if you prefer," Lumiere said with a smirking little grin. "The Sonny to my Cher, the Bacall to my Bogart, the…ah, the…"

"Teller to his Penn," supplied Baloo. Lumiere brightened and grinned.

"Precisely! You must help—we are a double act, and the only thing more effective than hands-on practice is an individually-tailored demonstration." Lumiere winked. "After all, I think that you would be even more opposed to hands-on practice…"

"No, no, no! I will not participate in any of this utter nonsense! And if I find you continuing this outrageous behavior on school grounds, then…then I shall do something rash!" Nodding to himself and satisfied with the power of his harsh threat, Cogsworth stormed out of the lounge in a huff. Lumiere tapped his fingers against his lips and shrugged, sighing.

"I think you might be a one-man band now, Lumiere."

"Quelle dommage. Ah, well, we must proceed as best we can."

Baloo rubbed the back of his neck, feeling extremely awkward. He was trying to keep this whole thing quiet, and he'd obviously not chosen the right people to come to for help. It was a lapse in judgment. He blamed the jeans. "You know, I don't want to put you out for this. Maybe I should just work this out on my own…"

"No, no! Do not doubt yourself now—not when you have put yourself in the best possible hands! You doubt now, perhaps you fear, but you are on the cusp of a romantic adventure that I can guarantee will burn bright in your memory until your dying day!"

Baloo looked at him skeptically. Maybe he should've kept his mouth shut. 

Too late for that, obviously. All he could do now is go with it and hope for the best.

\--

Step Two: Gauge your beloved's interest in you: friendlily, romantically, sexually. This takes finesse—if he is shy, his heart may yet betray his better judgment, so look carefully.

"Cogsworth, mon tres cher ami, please assist me?"

Cogsworth looked up from his stack of homework assignments. They were piled in two perfectly squared stacks—one face up, the to-be-graded, and one face down, the graded. He carefully pinched the corner of the graded stack, making sure the edges were even. "With what, Lumiere?"

"You are not busy?"

"I'm extremely busy. But what do you need?"

"It is more of a desire," Lumiere said with a slight smile. Cogsworth sighed. 

"Yes, come along, out with it."

"Take coffee with me today."

He blinked. "That's all?"

"Oui." Lumiere perched on the desk, cautiously, to prevent any shift in the papers. "I have found a new café, and you must come to try it with me."

"…me?"

"You! You have been hiding for weeks—so very unhealthy! I would not be surprised if you managed to rust from disuse."

"I suffer from misuse, thank you."

"Ha, ha, oh, you have the rapier wit, I am slain where I sit," Lumiere drawled. "But I insist that you come out with me! You will like this place, it is very neat and tidy and efficient. Parfait pour vous, and so you must come along."

Cogsworth looked down at his papers. "But I have a great deal of work to do…"

"An hour, my friend? Please? It will do you good." Lumiere placed his hand down by Cogsworth's, hiding a smile as the other man drummed his fingers thoughtfully, accidentally brushing against Lumiere's skin. Good, contact. He is willing to touch. "You can force me to pay, an apology for this morning in the lounge."

"Well…perhaps…if I scheduled a break…"

"Four o'clock? That is English tea-hour, yes?" 

"It is…"

"Cogsworth, mon cher, do not make me beg! My pride would not take it…and you would scold me for making a scene!"

"…I suppose…yes, all right," Cogsworth nodded. "I'll meet you here?"

"Yes. Oh, a little moment, cher…" Lumiere reached out and took hold of Cogsworth's tie. "You are askew."

"I shouldn't be. I use a tie-clip and I…" He stopped as light, slim fingers approached his neck, taking the tie and carefully tugging the fabric and adjusting the knot. 

Lumiere slipped a fingertip under the flap of his collar. "Not too tight? You will strangulate yourself if you insist so much on tight knots…"

"A-ah, no…"

"Bon." Lumiere lay the tie flat on his friend's chest, running his fingers down the smooth cloth and pressing it to his body to make sure it was even. He tucked the tie into its clip, smiling. "Much better! Four o'clock, yes?"

Cogsworth nodded, running a hand down his own front, apparently to compose himself. Lumiere got to his feet and smiled, waving a hand over his shoulder as he left the room. "Au revoir!" 

Lumiere closed the door behind him and looked at Baloo, grinning. "Did you see? Regarde, he could not keep his eyes off me!"

Baloo didn't want to be party to this. Not at all. "Uh, yeah, real smooth. So it's talk, touch, watch, listen, right?"

Lumiere's smile soured into an offended pucker. "It needs a bit more effort that that, you know! You must be suave, debonair—you must be playful and give him your attention, and leave him craving more. You must always keep your eyes open, you must be willing to take the right moment to spring, you must read in his eyes what his heart cries and his mouth will not say, and then, when you know, oh, then, you must act with all your surety and dare, and you must simply sweep him away…"

Baloo shook his head. "I'll do my best, but I think if I started pulling on Baghee's ties and sitting on his desk, he'd have me taken to the funny farm. I'm just going to have to tone that back, all right?"

Lumiere huffed. "I almost despair…yes, do what you will, I cannot force talent. Tell me how it goes, and I shall demonstrate the next step, yes?" Lumiere began to wander down the hall.

"Where are you going?"

"To prepare! I have a date, after all!"

\--

"There! That oughta take care of her!"

"Excuse my interruption…but didn't I see the new foreign exchange student from China leaving?"

"Oh, hey, Bagheera! Yeah, that's her—man, she's real a crackerjack, lemme tell ya! She doesn't mess around! That little lady's gonna go places!"

"Is she indeed?"

"Oh yeah! Heck, I think she'd even grow on you!"

"I see. Tell me, tell me, while you two were having this conversation, did you ever get to the part where you actually discussed the reason that Mr. Mushu sent her here in the first place?"

"Uh, well, you know, I didn't want to lay it on her too hard…"

"That's a no. Baloo, do you even know why she was sent here?"

"Something about getting used to a new country?"

"…it was about setting off fireworks on school grounds."

"Oh. Well…"

"Lots of fireworks."

"Yeah, but…"

"Baloo, we really shouldn't have our students having much of anything to do with fire on school grounds. You do realize the reason for that, right?"

"Well, see, the conversation just never really went in that direction. But she did come out of here a heck of a lot sunnier than she came in! Plus, she'd acing those classes, except, y'know, behaviorally, but Phil says she whipped the boys in just about every sport they've played this year, and she was real happy to hear that!"

"Oh, boy, that's just what she needs: more confidence."

"Come on, Baghee, what's a few little fireworks? I'm sure they were for a good cause."

"I'll just have to call her in and speak to her myself...right now."

"Aw, Baghee, you'll ruin her! You'll make a nervous wreck out of her! You always do, y'know! Come on, let her run a little, she won't harm no one! She's a good kid!"

"And how, exactly, do you think she will survive college applications, if she continues like this?"

"Phbt. She knows where my office is, don't she? And I'll learn her all I know."

"Well…heh, that shouldn't take too long."

"She'll be fine! All she's gotta do is look for those bare necessities!"

"Ugh, of all the silly gibberish…"

"Come on, Baghee, get with the beat! You just watch, she'd gonna do great!"

"Hmph. I just hope her luck holds out..."

\--

Bagheera was almost fifty percent sure that something strange was going on with Baloo. The big man had taken to spending a much greater amount of time at home in the past two weeks. Of course, he'd been blaring the stereo until Bagheera had resorted to stuffing his ears with cotton to try to get some peace and quiet, but it was still un-Baloo-like behavior enough to catch his attention. 

Also, and he might've been imagining this, but…it seemed like they were touching more often. He seemed to notice little things Baloo did, like putting his chin lightly on his shoulder to look into the pot on Bagheera's nights to cook dinner. Or just ever-so-faintly touching Bagheera on the back when they walked together. Or even last night, when Bagheera made him shut off the music and watch some decent cinema, and at some point, sprawled on the sofa and using Baloo as a bolster pillow, he'd almost thought that Baloo'd run his thumb down his neck.

But that was all totally absurd. Baloo was an extremely physical person—it was hardly anything new for them to touch. They were extremely comfortable around each other, so much so that Bagheera sometimes even fell asleep, leaning on Baloo on the sofa. He was just…overreacting.

And of course he knew why.

He blamed The Jungle. Fat chance of them ever having his patronage again! If he hadn't gone that night, he never would've been so hyper-aware now. But he'd gone once, and what he'd seen then had been enough to drive him to distraction ever since. 

He suddenly felt every single touch between them with an awareness he'd never had before. It wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but it just went to show how out of sorts he was. Baloo probably wasn't touching him any more than usual, he was just noticing it more. And it was becoming embarrassing because…well…

Bagheera scowled down at the pot, jabbing a piece of cauliflower with a wooden spoon. It was Baloo's chest, was where a lot of the problem was. 

It wasn't like he'd never seen Baloo shirtless before. After all, they'd grown up together! But he'd never really paid any attention, not at least in the state of mind he'd been in that night. Objectively, he knew that Baloo was big and on the hairy side, but…not so broad, nor so nicely defined! He knew from personal experience that Baloo was soft around the middle, and at least strong enough to lift a thirteen year old in each hand—after all, Bagheera'd seen him do it. Baloo was the first one most people went to, if a fight needed to be broken up—but he'd never really thought about the muscles he must be hiding under that hideous old grey hoody. 

And then there was the sheer size, and the way Baloo balanced fat and muscle, and the way that big, strong hand had felt on his ass, and then the body hair, something about the softness and way it looked against his dark skin, and his skin itself…Bagheera could remember how it felt under his fingertips, hot and smooth and the way he smelled like soap and spice and something musky and so male that it just played havoc with his brain…

Bagheera bit the inside of his cheek hard, ashamed and angry for his own sake, and Baloo's. It was terrible to be thinking about things like that! Baloo was his dearest friend! This was not something he should be thinking about a best friend! 

Bagheera took a slow, deep breath, having a sip of ice water, faintly wishing he could just dump it over himself. Maybe that would help him keep a cool head. Think about work. Think about school. Something serious and decent. Not about Baloo. 

He didn't like being out of his depth. He was fairly useless when he didn't have something practical and strategic to work with, and there was nothing to be done in this case but wait for this strange little crush to pass. After all, he'd had crushes before, and they always faded—it was a natural consequence of closeness, camaraderie, and sexual frustration. And until then, he'd just have to be careful and not do anything stupid around Baloo.

"Hey Baghee? Where's the new bottle of detergent?" Bagheera kept his eyes on the Aloo Gobi, making sure everything was properly cooked.

"Bottom of the pantry, where it always is," he replied, rolling his eyes with a small smile. "Wait. Are you really doing laun—"

'Plack' went the spoon, banging into the side of the pot as it made a graceless reentry into the cauliflower. Baloo was leaning against the doorway, one arm propped up to support his weight. He was wearing a pair of low-slung sweatpants and nothing else, a laundry basket propped on his hip. Suddenly that uncannily vivid memory of his chest was supplemented by broad, strong shoulders and thick, hairy arms. With his scruffy sweats, shaggy brown hair, and dark, sleepy eyes, he looked almost unforgivably messy, but that laundry basket…an incongruous combination, Bagheera would admit, but somehow it just made him stare.

"Laundry?" Baloo asked, chuckling. "Come on, Baghee, gimme a little credit! Just because you don't usually see me runnin' chores doesn't mean it doesn't happen."

Oh god. Eyes front, immediately. Stop looking at his hips. Damn, he wore those pants low. And starting at his navel was this little dark trail of hair leading—

Bagheera snapped back to the stove, retrieving the spoon and holding onto it like a shield. Get a grip! 

"Well…good." Very smooth. Very relaxed. 

"Anything you need taken care of, Baghee?" This was so bizarre. Not only was he thinking about his best, oldest friend in a plainly upsetting new way, said best, oldest friend was being entirely too helpful.

Might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

"Would you mind folding what's in the dryer?" Laundry. Taxes. Cold showers. Mowing the lawn. He was not thinking about his best friend like this. He would not. He'd rise above. Be cool. You've seen it all before.

"Yeah, all right." It didn't even matter that Baloo probably would fold it all wrong and Bagheera'd have to go back later and fix it. Feeling more at ease with the slight frustration of that thought, he smiled at Baloo.

"And Baloo?"

"Yeah?"

"Put on a shirt."

"Are you kiddin'? It's hot, Baghee, and I'm dying!" Baloo was grinning. Bagheera gave him a skeptical look, placing one hand on his hip.

"We have air conditioning, and it's sixty degrees out! We know from hot, Baloo, but if it's that bad, turn it up. Just don't wander around in here like that. It's not decent."

"It's just the two of us, Baghee. Come on, you're getting a free pass to the gun show." Baloo placed the basket down and curled his arms, flexing his biceps. They did look rather good. When did Baloo get time to exercise those things? His friend pulled a macho-man pose and Bagheera smirked. "Boom! Boom!"

"Impressive," Bagheera drawled. Okay, fine. As long as Baloo was acting silly, he could ignore the weirdness of his reaction to his friend's body. "And the triceps? Oh, very nice, Iron Man..."

Baloo came over towards the stove, one arm held up. "Check it out…"

Bagheera waved a hand at him. "I can see it plainly, thank you."

"Aw, come on, give it a feel, get the tour…"

Rolling his eyes, Bagheera placed a hand on Baloo's arm. Well, yes. It was enormous and firm and muscular and covered in soft, dark skin. He could handle it. He was cool. He was smooth.

"Nice." His voice better not have squeaked.

"All right, your turn."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Come on, Baghee, show me what you're working with!" Baloo took one of his wrists and lifted his arm, pushing up the sleeve of the black t-shirt he was wearing. He held Bagheera's forearm up at a ninety degree angle from the upper arm, obviously waiting.

Annoyed, but fairly amused, Bagheera strained the arm. A little rise occurred as the muscle flexed, nowhere near as impressively as Baloo's had.

"Aww, look, it's a baby," Baloo grinned, measuring the muscle between his thumb and forefinger. Bagheera glared. 

"Excuse me?"

"You're a lil' string bean, Baghee. Wiry. If mine are guns, yours are bows and arrows."

"That's a ridiculous analogy! And anyway, anything bigger is unnecessary for me!"

"Well, yeah, I guess you're right…you would look pretty weird all bulked up. Still, it's a cute little bump," Baloo said. He slid one hand up and tugged the sleeve back into place. "Y'know, I think I could probably carry you around on my back all day. Heh, maybe we should try it come prank day at school!"

Bagheera resisted the urge to just stick his tongue out. "Go do laundry."

"All right, all right, I'm goin'. Lemme know if you need any help with dinner."

Bagheera rolled his eyes and shook his head. See? Just Baloo, being absurd. Of course, the other man could probably just sling him over his shoulder if he wanted to, much less carry him about on his back. The image almost made him smile—rather caveman-like, really. That irresponsible, happy-go-lucky bum…

He completely ignored the fact that his arm stayed warm where Baloo's squeezed him. Really.

\--

Step three: Show some affection, shower them in compliments, but be sincere. Your own interest and honesty can be the ultimate aphrodisiac. Candor builds trust, and trust builds love.

Cogsworth lowered his head, hunching his shoulders and keeping his eyes suspiciously on Lumiere, looking rather like a wary guard dog. Lumiere smiled radiantly, coming over to him and effectively backing him toward the wall with just a few careful, graceful steps. 

"Yes?"

"You look most handsome today, cher," Lumiere purred. Cogsworth looked around nervously. 

"Please, Lumiere, really, there may be impressionable students around—"

"Then let them learn something new, yes?" He took one of Cogsworth's hands, which had been rather futilely held up to ward him off. He kissed the back of his palm, smiling. 

Cogsworth stared at him for a long moment, before snatching his hand quickly back. "Are you quite finished?"

Lumiere sighed and leaned against the wall, holding his head in his hand and placing his elbow just above Cogsworth's shoulder. He gave his friend a sad, quiet look, and after a long moment, spoke. "Am I so cruel, mon ami? We were friends once, were we not?"

Cogsworth sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his eyebrows with his fingers. "Lumiere, it's not…just…" He looked at Lumiere, suddenly feeling terribly guilty for being so harsh. True, he'd been provoked, but he knew Lumiere didn't really mean any harm.

"Of course we were friends, and we still are now," Cogsworth said simply. "But I don't enjoy this game you're playing."

"My dear, if I were playing a game, I would be the first to admit it."

"…is this you admitting it?"

Lumiere gained a small smile, eyes half-lidded and lips insistently silent. Cogsworth waited for several moments, long enough for the pause to become awkward. 

"Certainly you seem to be enjoying yourself, at least," Cogsworth accused quietly, sounding nevertheless considerably more at ease. "I think you just like trying to drive me mad."

"That I do not deny." Lumiere glanced down at one of Cogsworth's watches. "Ah. Pardon, mon plus cher, I have a class in fifteen minutes."

"Then get going!" Cogsworth said, the prospect of any type of tardiness enough to snap him back to attention. "Stop lollygagging out in the hallway!"

Lumiere smiled. "So happy when you are scolding me! I almost rejoice to see it," he said cheerfully. Before Cogsworth could protest, Lumiere leaned in, brushing their cheeks together and kissing une bise. "Au revoir,my friend."

"Yes, yes, hurry up, goodbye," Cogsworth stuttered, hurrying off in the opposite direction. 

Baloo frowned around the donut he held in his teeth. It wasn't too likely that that had been his next demonstration. After all, he hadn't gotten a chance to talk to Lumiere since the rousing success of Step Two almost a week ago—time had kind of gotten away from them both, with midterms roaring up. 

He was pretty sure, in fact, that no one was supposed to overhear that. 

Digesting that thought, he smiled. Well, good for them.

Perhaps it was time to take this into his own hands…

\--

"Pleakley, I really don't think you want to talk to me about this," Bagheera said rather desperately. "Perhaps you could talk to Baloo? He's really the more…that is, I'm really not…"

Nurse Pleakley pouted, glossy lips gleaming in the fluorescent light. The little nurse hat was perched precariously on top of long, wavy golden locks, which flipped aromatically over one slim shoulder.

"I can't talk to him, Bagheera, he doesn't know me!"

Bagheera didn't really think that the one or two drinks they'd had together made them really 'known' to each other. He was still pretty sure he didn't know where Pleakley had even received any type of medical training. 

"He's very open and sympathetic. I really think he could help you with your family problems."

"Oh no. No way. I'm not telling this story to anybody else! You've heard it, Jumba's heard it—now are you a guidance counselor or what?"

Bagheera sighed, gesturing that Pleakley sit down. "Listen, have you just tried telling you mother how you feel about her coming to visit? About how you're nervous about…this?"

"Of course not," Pleakley sighed. "She'd never understand. She never has understood me…never even tried! My sister was always the perfect daughter, all hard-working and prim and boring, and my brother just flopped belly up and let her do whatever she wanted…Mom doesn't want anything but her own way! She didn't even want me to go blonde, but look, it's gorgeous, right?"

Bagheera closed one eye slightly and counted to three, trying to be relaxed and caring and a people person. "I mean…talking about the…thing."

Pleakley stared at him, laughing nervously. "W-What thing? I don't know what you're talking about, Bagheera, there's no other reason I wouldn't want my own mother in town!"

Bagheera bobbed his head to the side slightly, giving Pleakley an apologetic look. Pleakley's hands twisted in the lilac-colored dress. "Oh. Um. Well. I guess…so you…?"

"Yes."

"…how?"

Bagheera sighed. This was why he didn't like dealing with the personal problems. He never knew how to calm someone down or comfort them. He was a practical person, not an emotional one. He hated to see someone in distress the way Pleakley was, and it was all the worse because he knew he wasn't being much of a help. "The Adam's apple."

Pleakley's hand flew up to his throat. He almost whimpered his words. "Please don't tell!"

Bagheera held up both hands. "No, no, don't worry, I'd never do something like that." He knew he'd be horrified if just about any of his personal life was made a matter of public discourse, and he'd never inflict it on anyone else. What was or was not under those immaculately tailored, incredibly fashionable skirts and dresses wasn't anyone's business but Pleakley's. "Besides, I really don't think anyone else has noticed."

Pleakley covered his hand with his mouth, taking a deep breath. "It's so hard sometimes," he sighed softly. "I don't want anyone else to know, not if I can help it. I'm a good person, I really am, but if some of the parents caught wind of it, or if the school board knew…"

Bagheera frowned, mostly because it was true. He picked up the small pot of tea he'd fixed moments before the nurse had blown in, and carefully poured her—no, him—no, Pleakley a cup. Pleakley gave him a shy little smile and sipped the tea. 

"They'd think I was some kind of pervert," Pleakley finished sadly. Bagheera sat back in his seat, scowling at his desk. What could he say? What could he do? This was why Baloo took care of the sticky personal problems—he knew how to work with people to make their personal lives happier. He excelled at quality of life…it was just the responsible, planning-oriented big picture he missed out on. Bagheera sometimes wished he had that natural talent that his friend had, those amazing, ever-effective people skills. He did his best to put himself in Pleakley's place, but he could still only imagine one really feasible way to resolve this.

"Perhaps you should just sit down with your mother on neutral ground," Bagheera murmured. "I'm sure you've thought of that solution before, though."

"Mom would never want to talk about it," Pleakley moaned. "She still thinks I'm going to be a doctor and settle down with a girl she picks out and raise a million kids. But I'm happy here! I don't want to go anywhere else and…and I should be allowed to wear whatever I want and settle down with whoever I want, whenever I want!"

Couldn't argue with that. "Pleakley, I'm going to really suggest that you consider talking to Baloo about this. He's the one with all the interpersonal skills. This really isn't my strong suit…"

"But he wouldn't understand. Not really…not any more than Jumba understands, even though I know he tries. They just…can't understand it. They've never had to deal with their families about what they are, only what they do. Not like us."

Bagheera heard warning sirens suddenly screaming between his ears. This was Not Professional. "Why do you say that?"

The nurse looked at him over his tea cup and gave him an indulgent look, a look one gives a sweet but exceptionally dim child. He lifted both eyebrows and smiled slightly.

"Darling," he said. Worlds of implication somehow fit in that word, making Bagheera fidget. This was no place for them to be discussing…that!

"W-Well, be that as it may," he said, clearing his throat, "I don't know if I have as firm a grip on the general situation. I can help you…organize your thoughts, perhaps gather together an idea of how you're going to approach your family, if you choose to do that, but I don't know how to help beyond that."

Pleakley sighed, looking down into his tea. He took a few big swallows of it. "I guess you're right…"

"If you don't take a stand, you could spend the rest of her life hiding from her and lying to her," Bagheera said gently, watching as that hit home and the nurse winced.

"That's true…I don't want to lie to her. I love her, you know, she's my Mom, raised me and loved me. She's just…a little overbearing, and set in her ways, and I don't want to have a fight."

"You can keep it from becoming a fight. I'll help."

"…okay. Thanks for the tea." Pleakley stood up, brushing off his skirt. "I guess I'll come in on Wednesday after school. Would that be fine?"

"Certainly. See you then."

When Pleakley closed the door, Bagheera put an elbow on his desk and knocked against his forehead with the heel of his hand. Damn ethical confidentiality. He needed Baloo.

And speak of the devil, the big man barreled in and marched over to Bagheera's desk, kicking the door shut behind him. Bagheera opened his mouth to greet him, and got steamrolled.

"All right, Baghee, you've got something I want and I'm not leaving here until I get it, and I don't know what I've gotta do to get it, but you name it and I'll do it."

Maybe he wasn't really completely awake yet, thought Bagheera. Maybe the last hour had been an extremely unusual dream. Why was Baloo standing around making demands? Perhaps Chip Potts had changed his mind about college and wanted to go into bank robbery for fun and profit, and Baloo needed someone to put him back on the straight and narrow and reasonable. Bagheera could handle that. All Baloo really had to do was ask, but if he wanted dramatics, that was fine, too. "Fine. Give me some advice and I'll take this off your hands. Shall I outline the terms?"

His friend looked a little taken aback by that, but nodded. Bagheera turned on his electric kettle, boiling more water for tea. He was going to get some caffeine in his system in the next fifteen minutes, come hell or high water.

"In a purely hypothetical situation, let us say that Person A is hiding something very, very important from Person B, something of a…an indiscreet nature. Person A cares about Person B a great deal and does not want to offend or upset Person B, but Person A knows that Person B will be unreceptive to what Person A has to say. How would you propose that Person A go about breaking the news?"

Baloo tilted his head, looking at Bagheera closely. "Baghee?"

"I'm sure you've seen situations like this before. I usually think that the simplest solution is the best, and that Person A should just lay it on the line and trust in Person B's charity of feeling and affection to carry him through. Do you agree?"

"You better believe it!" Baloo said with a broad smile. "Honesty and sincerity, Baghee, you can't go wrong. Just put it right out there—after all, you never know. Somethin' really good could come out of it! Love and happiness and all that."

Bagheera smiled sadly. It wasn't particularly likely that love would come out of this situation—there was always the significant chance that Pleakley's mother would simply refuse to accept it, and as for the other major affection on the table, it wasn't looking too reasonable. It was pretty well common knowledge that Pleakley was devoted to 'her boyfriend,' Dr. Jookiba. The odds of a confession on Pleakley's part to his mother throwing together himself and the incredibly straight Dr. Jookiba were infinitesimally tiny. During the few drinks that had cemented their acquaintanceship, Pleakley had whispered quite softly that Jumba was a beard, after a fashion, but that the nurse was hopelessly in love with him. Bagheera had been subjected to a tipsy monologue on the beauties of the Russian language—angry Russian, happy Russian, teasing Russian, sexy, sexy Russian—before he'd finally been able to steer the conversation away.

"I wouldn't bank heavily on that," Bagheera said quietly, "but it would be a very welcome miracle. Thank you for your advice. I'll pass it along."

Baloo winked. "Asking for a friend?"

"Yes. Now, what was it that you wanted?" He had some open time this afternoon. Surely he could get started dealing with whatever Baloo put in front of him.

"I want you to come out with me tonight. And I mean to dance, Baghee, like a few weeks ago."

Bagheera stared. "Wait. What?"

"You. Dancing. Tonight. It's gotta happen, Baghee, I wanna get you out on the floor again."

He'd been doing extremely well for himself, Bagheera had thought. He'd been assiduously ignoring his little crush, and today had been almost totally normal—no inconvenient memories about attractive bodies, no distracting daydreams about cheerful, sweet (if sometimes inane) smiles or frustrating, almost-amusing arguments or heavy, warm feelings of safety while stretched out on the sofa. 

Of course, since the Sweatpants Incident, his thoughts had taken an alarming turn for the worse, with Bagheera noting the way Baloo slung an arm around his waist when they relaxed together, or how charming he was when he stumbled into the kitchen first thing in the morning, rumpled and bleary and in desperate need of caffeination. There had even been a terrifying moment when he'd wanted to kiss Baloo right on the mouth, and only for making Bagheera's favorite meal during his turn to cook. It wasn't just sexual any more—it was getting more and more romantic in nature, innocent things catching his attention and making him feel warm. It had to stop!

But the last few days had been much calmer sailing. Baloo was his best friend, not his…special friend. He'd stopped actively thinking about any of these things, and it was a relief—he was getting over it. He was moving on, and out of paralyzingly awkward territory.

So much for that.

Bagheera felt his face start to flush and briefly thought that others couldn't possibly damn him better than he could damn himself. "You're kidding."

"Wouldn't dare."

"No!"

"Too late! You promised. C'mon, Baghee, you've been a grouchy ol' cuss lately, busy as a bee. A little party would do you a lot of good, and I want you to come with me!"

Bagheera stared at his friend. "Why on earth would you want me to come along?"

"Because you were having fun," Baloo said simply. "And you were happy, and you looked good, and I want to see you like that again. You looked like the hottest thing there, and you looked like you knew it, and you liked it, and I want to see you like that again. Enjoying yourself, man. I wanna share it with you."

…damn straight-boy charm to hell. Right to hell. How could anyone say 'no' to something like that? Hottest thing there, in Baloo's eyes? Sure, because the room had been full of men—he'd seen the way Baloo flirted with women, had seen him with at least three different semi-serious girlfriends during and since college. But still…The Jungle had been packed to the gills with masculine beauty that night, so it was still saying something considerable. 

Hottest thing there…well, that had been exactly what he'd wanted, even if he was reluctant to admit that he was vain to such an overwhelming degree. And Baloo was very handsome, so to be told such a thing by such a man almost had him purring. Maybe Baloo had really liked their dance, more than he'd let on. He certainly wanted to dance again…was it really just to see Bagheera enjoying himself, or did he have some type of extremely interesting ulterior motive?

That was, of course, the insane, sex-starved, potentially self-destructive part of his brain thinking. Bagheera was horrified. Dancing like that, again, willingly, with Baloo as his partner? No! Never, ever! It was undignified and shameful and base and disgusting.

Bagheera stared at Baloo, giving him the perfectly incredulous look he deserved for proposing something like this. Baloo smiled at him and came around his desk, putting them on equal footing. He put a big hand down on Bagheera's shoulder and rubbed, firm and careful. Contrary to what he wanted his reaction to be, Bagheera found himself naturally and helplessly relaxing, ever so slightly, under that touch.

"Now, come on, Baghee, don't make me beg." Would he? This was so inappropriate. Did he have to do this now? "You know I'll do it, but I'll make a scene if I have to, and everyone'll get involved and just keep telling you to go for it. I wanna dance with you. You already promised to take this off my hands…"

"But I—"

"It'll be fun. Dancin' all night, and I know a 24-hour diner we can go to. Let's have some fun, Baghee, and if you really hate it I'll never ask again. But I think you wanna do it. So why don't we?"

This was such an impossibly bad idea. From the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, this was a terrible idea—he felt it in his teeth, how completely outrageously ill-advised this was. If he'd been giving himself advice, he'd say to refuse unequivocally, and literally push Baloo out of his office, or run out himself, anything to get away from the situation.

Of course, that would-be adviser currently had Baloo's hand rubbing his shoulders, and romantic Baloo-related thoughts torturing his over-heated brain, and a thousand little Baloo-based torments, innocent and aggravating, sexy and (still) aggravating bouncing around inside him, driving him slowly but irresistibly away from decent, common sense.

So, against his better judgment and ignoring his delighted but unrealistic libido, Bagheera plunged in.

"All right," he sighed. He didn't need to look up to see Baloo's grin—he knew it had to be there. "Where?"

"I'll take us. I know a great place, and if you thought that band last month was hot, baby, I've got something for you!"

May heaven have mercy. 

"What's the dress code?" He shouldn't have asked that. He should've just shown up in an Oxford shirt and a tie, every possible button buttoned, every available inch of skin shrouded.

"Wear something clubby. What you wore that first time looked really good…maybe that again." Something a little bit slutty. He shouldn't be doing this, no no no.

But it was totally out of his hands, and it gave him an unexpected but faintly excited sensation to know the only thing he could do was sit back and try to enjoy the ride.

Maybe that was what the onset of a panic attack felt like, but somehow he doubted it.

Some small part of his brain made a note to look up dance moves. If Baloo was going to make him do this, he was going to this right. A sudden savage instinct wanted to give Baloo what he wanted, and more besides, enough to make his brains melt out his ears and show him exactly what playing with fire got him.

Keep it together. You're doing enough to embarrass yourself already.

"Fine," he said simply. Baloo lifted his hand and rubbed the top of Bagheera's head, mussing up his hair. The smaller man batted him away, smoothing back the locks to their previous pristine perfection.

"You're a sport, Baghee! We're going to have a blast, just you wait."

"Go to work."

"Could say the same about you," he grinned, and was gone, office door closing after him.

Bagheera stared after him for a moment, wanting to slam his head against the desk until he either woke up from this bizarrely pleasant nightmare or passed out into a more mercifully reasonable consciousness. 

Instead, he set about making tea and cross-checking the class credits of this year's seniors. After all, he was a professional.

\--

Step Four: Always look good, but make an extra effort now and then. If he's looking, he can't help but notice it, and it will work to your benefit.

Lumiere strode down the hall, smiling as he loosened his scarf, a rather theatrical yet extremely fashionable accessory. He wore it for warmth and, when moved, it had the pleasant side effect of releasing a little burst of scent from where it had rubbed against the carefully-applied cologne on his neck. He liked that scent—woodsy, with a slightly citrus mid-tone to keep it crisp, sweet fennel popping against the omni-present French cigarette smoke that clung to him. Cogsworth was sure to notice, but he'd have to spend some time today leaning close, just to be sure.

He watched Baloo almost skip out of Bagheera's office, which was a pretty remarkably graceful feat for such a large man. Lumiere tilted his head and paused, lighting up a fag and smiling brightly at the security camera that would no doubt catch him in the act. 

Baloo of necessity would have to pass him, but he seemed a bit busy doing a small, impromptu victory dance, so Lumiere approached him. "You are having a good morning, mon ami?"

Baloo did a brief moonwalk, pumping his fists back and forth before offering a hand for a high-five. "You better believe it!"

"Could I ask you to enlighten me, or would that be telling?" Lumiere asked, smirking as he slapped his palm against Baloo's.

"I have got a date! Tonight! And—now you keep this under your hat, understand—he asked a real thinly-veiled question about telling me how he feels! This is going off without a hitch!"

Lumiere gave him a horrified look. "A date? Tonight? But no, no, this will never do!"

"What are you talking about? It's just about the best news I've had in weeks!"

Lumiere gestured to Baloo, waving outraged hands at his messy hair, his worn-out gray hoody and his black jeans, and the big black trainers he wore everywhere. "And how, Monsieur, do you think I can correct all of this in so little time as to have you ready for this evening?!"

Baloo looked at him incredulously. "I don't know whether to ask what's wrong with it or why you think there's something wrong with it."

"It is worse than I thought! But tell me, my friend, how do you propose to seduce a man with such excellent tastes as Monsieur Bagheera in…this?"

"Well, he's seen me like this before, he knows what I'm about. Besides, I don't wear this when I go dancing, not usually anyway. I pull on a t-shirt and go, most nights, sometimes I dress up a little…"

Lumiere shook his head sadly. "I have so much to do, and nearly no time. All, well, we will make due. Come along, mon petit, I shall try to make you presentable."

"I don't need—"

"Yes you do, Baloo, and even if you do not think so, Monsieur Bagheera will be eternally grateful to me for it later."

With a skeptical face, Baloo followed Lumiere to his class room, to make the most of the few minutes before class started. Lumiere sighed to himself—his skills were so taxed, and such a thankless job! They were all just lucky he was here.

Later in the morning, Cogsworth passed the spot where they'd spoken and caught a scent of extremely nice but unpleasantly thick cologne in the air. Whoever was wearing that was really soaking in it. He took a careful second breath and, recognizing it, nodded to himself. Maybe he wouldn't sit next to Lumiere at the teacher's meeting, after all.


	4. Make It Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's the good bit! The stunning conclusion to The Jungle.

"I begin to fear."

"You think you're afraid?!" Baloo pulled on the ascot with a grimace, unknotting it. "You're not the one dressed like this!"

"Nonsense," Lumiere said with a nervous laugh. "You look…"

"Like a Mediterranean gigolo!" He shook his head, whipping off the neck covering. "Man, that's way too uptight. Baghee probably wouldn't recognize me if he say me wearing this!"

"Of course he would, do not be absurd—it would be an improvement, even."

Baloo made a note to hide his hoody when it wasn't actually on his body. If Bagheera and Lumiere ever discovered their mutual dislike of the thing, they'd team up and burn it. He'd have to find a safe spot. "Yeah, right."

Lumiere placed his cigarette between his lips and undid another button on Baloo's shirt. He didn't respond to the gesture, but inwardly felt a little more relieved—there, see? Relaxed was good. No need for neckties. "Now, there will be music. Romantic candlelight…"

"Ah, no, actually. Strobes, probably. We might go to a diner, though, so fluorescent light as well."

Lumiere winced, as if dealt a physical blow, and covered his heart. "Fluorescent? No candles?"

"No. Don't need 'em. They'd look weird in a diner, and they don't contribute that much to a date, do they?"

The Frenchman closed his eyes. "Oh mon Dieu, aie pitié de cet, votre enfant," Lumiere whispered. Taking a breath, he bravely carried on. "And then, when the moment is right, you confess your love."

Baloo shifted his weight. "But Baghee already knows I love him."

"Not the fraternal love, Monsieur," Lumiere said with infinite patience. "Your romantic affections."

"And a first date is a good time to say something like that?"

Lumiere blew a plume of smoke. "You care for your friend, don't you?"

"Yeah. More than anything." He did. Of course he did. Actually, Bagheera was closer to him that his own family, both spatially and emotionally…and he loved them dearly. But he'd chosen Bagheera, and you can't choose your family—Bagheera, just by being his strange little self, had wormed his way into Baloo's heart years ago…it was just now that he was apparently trying to set Baloo's skin on fire from inside.

"Then you must tell him!" Lumiere adjusted the fit of the shirt over his shoulders and stood back. "Voila! Oh, you look so…so…"

Baloo glanced in the mirror. He wore the best pair of slacks he had, dark grey, and loose, black shirt, open just a little more than was proper. He'd been forced into real shoes, no sneakers, and he frowned at his reflection. Did he really look that hairy, or that big? "Weird."

"No. But…unkempt, perhaps. If you would let me do something about your hair, for instance…"

His knee-jerk reaction was a 'no.' He hated fuss, and this was definitely fussy. Besides, what was wrong with his hair? He ran a hand over his chin. Okay, maybe he could use a little shave, but… "I don't want anything complicated…"

"A little off the top?"

"…well, just real quick…"

"Excellent! Stoop a little, s'il vous plait…"

\--

Bagheera stared into his closet with his hands on his hips. Time to make a very serious decision.

Taking a slow breath and trying not to think about this too much, he reached in and took out the hanger from the depths of the back, the one with the leather pants hanging on it. He hadn't worn these in years—maybe ever. He'd bought them once on a stupid impulse and came to his senses almost immediately afterwards, banishing them to the depths of the closet.

Their time had come. As he put them on, he reflected on an only very slightly comforting thought: if these didn't make Baloo's eyes pop of out his head, they'd certainly work for someone else there.

Making Baloo's eyes pop out of his head should not be a main priority, he knew, but…somehow it was.

Bagheera sighed, combing his hair. This had started out completely out of hand, and it was only getting worse and worse. A few months ago, he'd had his defensive little shield through which he looked at the world safely, and he'd kept himself perfectly balanced against temptations or romance. And then, sudden as a lightning strike, his libido sat up and demanded a sacrifice, and instead of doing something reasonable and sensible like repressing it, he'd had to make the 'healthy' choice and try to address and alleviate the stress. And what did that get him?

It got him a two ton amorous elephant in the room, doing duty 24/7, and it looked like Baloo that night in the club. His big, aggravating, irresponsible best friend of so many years, good-hearted and outgoing and always there for him, if almost never on his side, and always happy to see him—his best friend who one night made his mouth water and his knees shake, and now it seemed like there was no going back. He couldn't relax, not that he'd been very good at it in the first place, because suddenly everything his friend did had a new and unexpected impact!

Why was Baloo making him do this? Didn't he remember how humiliating the last time was? Bagheera still burned with shame because of his foolishness that night…did it really mean so much to Baloo that he go 'have fun'? Because it had been fun, he'd admit it, dancing with someone like that, but it was more fun afterwards, when it was the two of them making eyes at each other…

Oh, no, there it was. The whole awful crux of the matter. He'd had the most fun that night, not dancing, not being looked at, not even in the anticipation leading to that first step inside. It had been in a dingy men's room, with—let's be honest now—the sexiest, best man in the club pretending to be Bagheera's lover, and giving him the opportunity to flirt, shamelessly and whole-heartedly, back. He'd enjoyed it. He'd like to try it again, especially without an audience.

This was Bad. Who felt this way about their dearest friend? Who thought these things, who let themselves run the risk of destroying their best, oldest friendship for…whatever he thought he could get? Because lest he forget, Baloo was definitely not…not…interested.

Wasn't he?

He stood very still and frowned. Why on earth was he thinking something like that? This little crush had gone far enough—he was beginning to give himself false hope, and that would only end horribly.

But…something didn't fit.

All right, look at it rationally: why did he think Baloo was not interested? He'd had plenty of girlfriends, and had never wanted for a casual date, as far as Bagheera knew…but those dates had always been female, hadn't they? Hadn't they? And Baloo had been trying to get him out for years, that was true, and when Baloo had spotted him in the club, it must've been like a present from God: Baghee was loosening up.

…Baloo had seemed excited, that night. But surely that was just good-will, not anything like some kind of adult interest, no matter what those little bucks and grinds of his hips (living in sparkling clear definition in Bagheera's mind) would suggest…

He felt a hot, dense blush creep up his neck. On the other hand, how many straight men went to gay bars and ground with other men, especially ones they knew? How many straight men decided, unbidden, to put on a spontaneous show for a friend's ex-lover, innuendo and fondling included? How many straight men walked around shirtless and insisted that their queer friends feel up their muscles? How many straight men were willing to do—from the sound of their last conversation—nearly anything, and just to get their male friend into club clothes and out on a dance floor, dancing and grinding like that first night?

Bagheera nearly slapped himself. When had he become so unforgivably dense? Of course, there was the chance that this really was all friendly, but everything, at least from this side, looked like tonight was supposed to be a date.

He covered his mouth with a hand, taking a moment to really think about this, hard. Then he stopped.

Because if he thought any more, he'd realize that this was too terrible a risk and that he should call Baloo right now and tell him he was sick, dying, anything to keep him off that dance floor. He'd let his rational mind take over and steer him away from these treacherous straits and into smoother, easier, more boring and desperately unsatisfying sailing.

If he didn't think about it, he'd go with it, take the risk, try something dangerous and stupid and new.

And he wanted to try. After all…if his suspicions were correct, and Baloo had been deliberately seducing him…well…that was fascinating, and deserved closer study, didn't it?

Bagheera combed his hair carefully into place and ran his hands down his leather-clad legs. He took a few deep breaths, trying to stay calm, and went down to the kitchen to wait for Baloo to be done.

\--

Sneaking Lumiere out had been harder than he'd expected. The other man seemed to want to see his handiwork in action, and to scope out what Bagheera's perspective on appropriate fashion was, but Baloo had gently—with both hands—deposited him on the stoop and, with an few heartfelt thanks and promises of updates, closed the door in his face.

His first impression was of slight disappointment—black on black on black. Some things just didn't change…still, that V-neck shirt looked pretty nice, a little snug.

That changed dramatically when Bagheera noticed him in the room and stood up. Holy moley…if the cow that had died to make those pants could see now to what use they were being put, it would've gone to its grave proud.

"Baghee, you look…" Smoldering. So hot. Burning with some kind of deep inner fire that came out only at night. And not just because he looked good—he'd chosen those clothes carefully, as Bagheera did everything carefully, and he had to know what, exactly, they did. His friend locked his passion and appetites and worlds of sex appeal tightly away, and he was using the opportunity before him to creak open that door, ever so slightly, and let Baloo see it. The time and care that went into the construction of the man in front of him confirmed that Bagheera, despite the impropriety involved, was trying to go along and have some fun. The trust Bagheera placed in him to even do anything like this in the first place made a hot coal of excitement burn in Baloo's chest. It could work. It would work.

It was working already.

"Did you get a haircut since this afternoon?" Bagheera asked, after Baloo's sentence had trailed off into nothing.

"Yeah."

"It looks…very nice." Bagheera tilted his head and smiled slightly. "You look very nice."

Okay, Lumiere, you win this one. You know your business. Baloo made a note to send a 'thank-you' card.

"You ready?"

"I hope so. Where are we going?" Baloo scooped Bagheera's keys from the little dish in the hallway, before the owner could grab them. "All right, wait—when was the last time you drove?"

"Uh…last month?"

"I should drive."

"Baghee, relax! This is a surprise—I'll take care of everything."

"I don't doubt that. That's why I'm afraid."

"Come on, Mr. Know-It-All, live a little!"

"If you break my car, I will never speak to you again."

"Well, then, I'll be extra careful." Baloo slung an arm around Bagheera, pulling him close. "Relax, man. We're gonna go have fun. Just unwind…"

\--

Bagheera was notoriously bad at unwinding, and by the time Baloo parked, he was about as tightly wound as he'd ever been in his life. Nerves, terror, excitement, and Baloo's driving skills collaborated to make him staggeringly tense. Baloo sat and waited, giving him a dry, amused look, as he slowly, carefully released the passenger's seat handle.

"You sure you can handle this, Baghee?" Baloo asked. "You could wait here and take deep breaths while I went and got you a sedative or a horse tranq or something."

Some deep dark interior part of his brain that never got addressed suggested a rather rude response. Bagheera ignored it in favor of glaring. "Give me the keys! You are never driving this thing again!"

"You sure you want 'em?" Baloo smirked. Bagheera almost did a double take. Since when did Baloo smirk? "I dunno where you'd put 'em…those pants of yours don't look like they have much storage."

Hah! He knew it: Baloo had to notice. The judicious application of leather pants could win wars. "They're really built for style, not substance."

"Hm. Pardon me for sayin', Baghee, but I think you got plenty of substance." Baloo unbuckled his belt. "Come on, let's do this!"

Bagheera was hard pressed not to acknowledge that fluttery little feeling of nonsensical excitement. He was being flirted with. How could anyone not enjoy that feeling, at least when on the receiving end of the attention of someone like Baloo? It was absurd to be so delighted with the praise of a person like Baloo—how many years of aggravation and argument had they shared, again?—but here he was. Happy. Thrilled.

Horny.

Yes, fine, he'd admit it. That craving for sex was roaring back to prod his brain with pointy fingers, and Baloo was looking awfully tasty. How and where he'd suddenly learned to dress himself was a bit of a mystery, but Bagheera couldn't be more thankful for the sight of satiny black fabric against that broad, strong, dark-haired chest. Mm. Less was on display tonight than had been, but he had the feeling that the buttons shielding him from indecency would be undone as he worked up a sweat.

Of course, Bagheera's desires were hardly as straight-forward at that. In addition to wanting sex, he also desperately wanted to get a hold of himself, bring his libido to heel, and then push it down the stairs. This was BALOO—they went to elementary school together! Baloo had been the indirect cause of his first black eye, his first broken bone, his first unnaturally lost tooth. He'd seen Baloo in any state of undress: laundry day, gym showers, skinny-dipping (Bagheera wore a swimsuit and would end anyone who even thought about pantsing him). He'd seen Baloo at his worst, expelling his contents during college parties and making professional social blunders that still made him cringe to think about. He'd seen him at his best, at their graduation and just about whenever a distressed student came into his office looking for his help. There were years and years and years of intimacy most married couples couldn't boast: fights and arguments and never ever even once an attempt to end the whole damn roller coaster of a friendship.

And suddenly his whole heart was on fire to push him down, crawl all over him and kiss every bit he could reach while baring some new ones, do things to his best friend that would make his brains melt out his ears. And then he wanted to wake up the next morning, have breakfast, fight, kiss, enjoy their Saturday, and start the whole process all over again come nightfall. Sex, food, fight, love, life. Over and over and over again.

It was part of the problem, that fourth appetite: sex, he could dismiss, but obviously not so easily as he wished. As for the others, they were ingrained into the nature of their relationship. But love…well, naturally he loved the big brute. Baloo was like family, or closer, a part of him, an aggravating and essential part—he wouldn't know what to do if he lost him. Baloo had always been there for him, always willing to challenge and argue with him, always eager for his company, even when Bagheera was at his grouchiest and most uptight. Baloo made him smile and laugh when hardly anyone else could. Baloo had seen Bagheera at his worst and never flinched for a moment.

Love like this was the trigger for panic. Love like this was too intense, constant, deep friendship mixing with desperate sexual attraction; it made it all so difficult. If Baloo turned around tonight and wound up with some gorgeous example of the female of the species, well…it would be crushing, far more so than Bagheera wanted to admit. His romantic aspirations were new, but they were relentless. He wanted sex and he wanted his best friend to kiss him on the cheek and hug him and have dinner with him and inspire that bantering bicker between them and just…be his boyfriend. So strange to think it: Baloo Sangita, his boyfriend. But he didn't want just sex, and he didn't want just friendship…not anymore, or at least not that alone. He wanted it all. He wanted to try it, see if it worked. Take the risk. Make the leap. Finally fall in love, with the best man he'd ever known.

His own brain held him in a strangle-hold, common sense pulling the reins, trying to steer towards the safe path of friendship while his heart raced full-tilt towards mad, uncharted territory.

It was obvious, however, that he'd have to keep his hands to himself, for the moment. On the off chance that he was reading entirely too much into this, he didn't want to be the one to alienate Baloo with unwanted advances. If he'd come this far and had indeed been seducing Bagheera, then there surely would come a point when he wished to reach the culmination of the last weeks. And if tonight wasn't it…well…then he'd have to wait.

Of course, that didn't mean some seduction of Bagheera's own devising would be out of the question…

Bagheera took a deep breath and looked up at the building into which Baloo was paying their entrance. He'd tried to offer some cash, and Baloo had waved him off. Bagheera lifted an eyebrow. "'The Golden Hind'?"

"Yeah, baby! This place is awesome. Very classical, y'know, Ancient Greece."

Bagheera only wondered for a moment how far the Greek theme extended. His considerations could never live up to the reality within: he hadn't known this many marble statues existed in the whole city, let alone one building.

He sidled up close and murmured just loud enough for Baloo to hear him. "Am I to understand that you have brought me to the campiest gay bar you know?"

"Is it?" Baloo asked innocently. Was it? The place had more male nudes than most art galleries—though thank God, all were marble. "All I know is, the hottest dance band in the world is playing here tonight, and you promised to dance."

He promised no such thing! "I agreed to come out tonight, Baloo. I know you want me to dance, but I really do not think it would be wise for me to—"

"Baghee. Please? You came knowing what I want…dance with me. I'll make it worth your while…"

How? …down, boy. "All right. One dance."

"Some dances, and like last time." Bagheera scowled. "I know you, Baghee. You're going to try to shove me off with a waltz or something otherwise stiff and formal, and consider the bargain honored."

"I would not waltz in this bar, thank you."

"Sure you would. But you can't. I want you to shake it, sugar, let the music get right down into your bones again."

He was going to think of some horrible chore to pay Baloo back for this; something long and lingering. Maybe writing this year's Christmas cards. Or reading War and Peace.

Any response he might've made—and it would've been saucy, damn the consequences—was lost in the band's introduction. Short and sweet, and suddenly the room pounded with music. He might've tried to contain himself in other circumstances, but he couldn't really see how he might've stood a chance now, with Baloo demanding dances and his own body disobeying his mind. The drum line crept along the ground and slid up his legs, biting him deep in the spine and making his body resonate with hot, pounding percussion. Searing guitar licks stung straight past his ears, right into his brain, electrifying him from the inside out. Fat, brassy trombones and trumpets swelled in the mid-line—base washed along, slipping deep and smooth into the sound of the song. In seconds he was nodding his head—a minute in, he was shifting his feet. Baloo gave him a triumphant little smile, and Bagheera responded with a sharp little smirk, lowered eyelids, and a small buck of his head.

All right. If Baloo was sure…

The big man began to rock side to side, tapping his feet as he swayed. He bobbed his head with the beat, shaking that shaggy mop of brown hair atop his head with the force of his moving frame. Bagheera did his best to keep it together, to contain himself better than he had that first night, but Baloo obviously knew what he was doing by picking this band. As for technical skill, Bagheera had no idea how they ranked, but they were unbelievably enthusiastic, all joy and passion for their sound. After a few moments' exposure, his hips were starting to bounce and shift with the beat. And just a little while after that, his shoulders were rolling counter-time, legs sliding and bending as he moved.

Baloo grinned, big and broad, and took a few steps closer, dancing with him. Bagheera smiled a little, almost shivering as the guitarist took a rapid, ravishing solo. Baloo mimicked his gestures a bit, although Bagheera knew he had to be embellishing it—there was no way Bagheera was moving like that. Far too…reckless. Bagheera tilted his head to the side slightly and smiled, letting his eyes linger on his best friend. In his mind's eye, he could see those muscles and that skin that he'd borne happy witness to several days ago, and he could imagine it moving now, not quite graceful, but certainly not clumsily. Bagheera moved closer, and picked up that unique, delicious scent: soap, sweat, spice. Musky. Male. Baloo.

"Now you're going, baby," Baloo shouted with a smile. Bagheera lifted an eyebrow.

"I think I know what I'm doing," he replied, although his voice was lost immediately in the music. Shrugging it off, he smiled and let himself luxuriate in the moment. He was moving, shifting, dancing.

Inch after inch of tight, restrained muscle began to stretch and relax—his hips and shoulders, freed from the professional chastity of movement he employed during the week, swayed and dipped and bucked and rocked. His legs moved, taking small, rocking steps, knees bobbing now and then to ride the beat. His arms were slightly up and bent, hands towards his head, fingertips itching to touch. He was hot—he was smooth—he was dark and sleek and built for this, this perfect moment when he threw off restraint and propriety, just a little; this and love.

The band played two more songs before he finally turned around. The crowd was cheering, cat-calling, rock-hands lifted high, Baloo's hands cupped around his own mouth as he offered a few hoots of appreciation.

Bagheera looked over his shoulder at him, Baloo's chest to his back, and took a step closer. Baloo looked down at him, apparently surprised. He threw him a dark, wicked little smile.

"You wanted to dance like this?" he asked, as coyly as he could. There was no way this kind of thing could really seem innocent, but for the sake of the game…

Baloo may not have heard him, but he seemed to be able to read lips. He leaned down and spoke directly in Bagheera's ear. "Yeah. I do."

The next tune picked up. Bagheera started to move, sensing Baloo dancing behind him. There had to be about five inches or less separating their bodies…how far would Baloo close that distance, he wondered. They swayed together, Baloo reaching around and putting one big hand on Bagheera's hip.

He tried not to purr.

He failed.

Bagheera smirked and rocked his hips a bit, back and forth, quick little jerks following the bass line. He blinked, shocked but not surprised as, just like last time, Baloo's hips came forward to bump him in the rear. Taking advantage of the movement, he pushed back, rubbing his ass against Baloo's hips.

Leather on cotton, and nowhere to hide. Mmm.

Baloo didn't retreat, and Bagheera couldn't be happier. They stayed like that, swaying and moving, hips connected. Baloo's other hand fell on him, holding him, keeping him where he was. Bagheera shimmied a bit, testing him, and smirked, feeling Baloo's hands tense and loosen, trembling a bit.

The song ended. A new one began. Bagheera turned around and put both hands on Baloo's chest, on the shirt, right next to bare skin. Facing forward, he expected more of the same, this close, almost obscene dancing.

Instead, Baloo looked at him, smiling a warm, hungry smile, dark eyes deep and beautiful, and wanting.

Baloo wanted him, wanted this. A terrifying thought, paralyzingly frightening.

Except it wasn't. He'd known it, and now he had proof. And he wanted to act on it.

Bagheera raised himself up on his toes, trying to reach eye-level with Baloo. He slid his hands up to his shoulders and clung, smiling a bit as Baloo wrapped his arms around him, giving him a helpful little boost. Bagheera put his mouth by Baloo's ear.

"Is what I think is happening, happening?" he asked. Better safe than sorry. Especially when Baloo turned and rubbed his nose against his jaw and throat a bit, before replying.

"It is if you think I'm about to kiss you."

Did anything else need to be said? Not really. Except… "Let's go."

Baloo was probably a little annoyed that they left the music so early, but Bagheera really didn't think he was going to remain whole, if he waited anymore. In the car (Bagheera in the driver's seat, because not even love could forgive the way Baloo drove), they sat and stared at each other for a moment.

"I love you," Baloo said. Bagheera hadn't noticed, but they'd held hands all the way out of the club. He squeezed the enormous palm in his fingers.

"I know you do," Bagheera replied.

"I mean. I think I really…" Baloo rubbed the back of his neck, looking like an over-grown bashful little boy. "…love you."

Oh. Oh, this was perfect. Perfect, perfect. How? He didn't care. He was going to burst—keeping his cool enough to drive was going to be agony.

He lifted that big hand to his mouth and kissed the back, smiling. "I love you, too," he said quietly. "And I want to really try to do this. Do you?"

"Yeah, Baghee, 'course I do."

"Good. So when I get you home and do very inappropriate first-date things to you…just remember that I really want to…do this. Try it. Be with you, Baloo. Fall in love with you."

Baloo made a soft noise and reached for him, cupping the back of his head and pulling him over the armrest between their seats. Their lips connected, softly at first, imperfectly. They had a lot to learn, after all…but it was slow and sweet, and Bagheera opened his mouth just a tiny bit, enough to lick Baloo ever so slightly. Baloo made another, louder noise, and Bagheera purred.

"We'd better go home," Baloo said hoarsely. "I wanna do some pretty inappropriate first-date stuff to you right now, and I don't want to get put up on public indecency."

"Buckle up."

"…are you trying to kill the mood, man?"

"I'm concerned about your safety. Buckle. Up."

"Fine, all right, start the car, Baghee."

"Not until I hear the click."

They fought all the way home. It was the most perfect, romantic thing Bagheera could've thought of.

\--

As soon as the door closed behind them, they fell on each other. They didn't make it up to Bagheera's room. Instead, they managed to get to Baloo's, and even that had some fairly perilous moments when it didn't seem like they'd get off the steps.

Bagheera had his legs wrapped around Baloo's waist, arms around his neck. Baloo's own arms were supporting him, hands on his rear, making themselves familiar with the territory. They were necking like teenagers—kissing had taken some adjustment, but when they'd fine-tuned it, good God. Absolutely amazing.

Bagheera hissed happily as they reached Baloo's room with a thud, the hard wood of the door pressing against his back.

"Mind openin' that, baby?" Baloo asked, nibbling down Bagheera's neck. The smaller man growled slightly as Baloo found his collarbone—oh, he was sensitive there, and the slow, warm sucks of the skin made his bones turn to jelly. He shakily undid one arm from around Baloo's neck, fumbling for the door knob. He found it, after a few false starts, and twisted it desperately.

They stumbled inside, and Baloo kicked the door shut after them. He was strong…so strong, and it made Bagheera's mouth water. Skin and muscle and strength and looks, and a warm, dear heart, and a completely opposed perspective on the world. Perfect? Strangely enough, maybe so.

Bagheera kissed him again, rubbing his hips down against Baloo's. He groaned softly as he felt the answering hardness in his friend's—lover? Boyfriend?—trousers, hot and just as insistent as his own.

Baloo sat down on the bed, Bagheera on top of him and straddling him. Arms no longer required to hold him up, Bagheera set about undoing every last button that was hiding warm, dark flesh. When the shirt was open, he fairly purred, dropping his head to Baloo's shoulders and working his way along, kissing here, nibbling there, hungry to explore every inch of the handsome creature before him. He smelled delicious. He looked delicious. And by God, he tasted delicious. Bagheera squirmed in his lap, rubbing their hips together, grinding hard and slow.

Baloo shivered a bit and pushed off the sleeves, catching Bagheera's head and pulling him up for a kiss. Bagheera was beginning to pant softly, and tried to catch his breath.

"I wasn't finished," he said, speaking against Baloo's mouth.

"I hope not," Baloo said with a wink. He slid his hands under the soft cotton sweater Bagheera was wearing, pushing it up his bare chest. Bagheera's soft moan trembled, those big, warm hands brushing against his cooler skin, and he obediently lifted his arms as Baloo pulled the sweater off. Their shirts fell in a tumble on the floor, bare skin connecting warmly as Bagheera leaned close and pressed their bodies together, moaning softly at the contact.

Enough. He wanted more. Bagheera set about undoing his fly, whispering instructions in Baloo's ear. "Take it off. Let me see you."

His response came in a breathy chuckle. "Kinda wanted you to take 'em off for me…"

He nibbled, a bit roughly, on Baloo's shoulder. "Do it. Now. Please."

Baloo first slipped his hands under Bagheera's waistband and helped him slide out of the leather. Hot, huge hands stroking his thighs and rear made Bagheera pant in earnest, and he growled softly, feeling cotton under his skin as he sat down once more.

"Take them off, or I'm tearing them off!"

"I'd like to see that, babe, don't tempt me." But for all his teasing, Baloo was moving with flattering speed, getting those pants off with the minimum of adjustment. Because of his own clothing, Bagheera had elected not to bother with undergarments, but Baloo had disagreed. The smaller man fairly snarled.

"Those, too!"

"Slow down, now, no need to fuss…"

Bagheera caught him by the chin and pressed a searing hot kiss to his lips, dominating him, their tongues tangling in the dark heat of Baloo's mouth, teeth just barely keeping from nipping his lips. His hips bucked against Baloo's clothed lap, rubbing insistently. When he broke the kiss, they were out of breath, aroused, and hoarse.

"I have spent the last four months willing to sell my soul to make love until I can't breathe," Bagheera hissed, "and the last month being teased by you. Tell me again to slow down. Find out what happens."

Baloo tried to catch his breath, pushing down his shorts with a broad grin. "Guessin' you're gonna throw me down and take what you want?"

"Good guess," he whispered, gasping as Baloo reached behind him and cupped his ass, grinding their naked groins together. "Oh, God, please!"

"Love you, baby," Baloo murmured, kissing his neck and shoulders. Bagheera moaned. Loved him. Baloo loved him. Oh, this was going to be the death of him…

There was some pleasantly hasty maneuvering to the head of the bed, where the night table stood. Bagheera retrieved, somewhat awkwardly, the necessary accoutrements—Baloo's hands had no business being anywhere but on him. He pushed the little tube into one of Baloo's palms.

"I want you," he breathed. "Inside. God, it's been so long…"

"Let me hear you, baby, I don't want you to hold it back…" Baloo got two fingers slick. 

"I love you," Bagheera whispered, just as Baloo pressed one finger inside him. It burned, just right, a tight, hot ache that made him hiss. Everything about Baloo was big, and just one finger had him ready to lose his mind. Bagheera tightened his grip on Baloo's shoulders and tried not to shake.

Baloo kissed him, his other hand reaching down to wrap around his cock and stroke him slowly, making him squirm and twitch with pleasure.

"Baghee…" He pressed that finger deeper, stretching him and retreating, pressing in again after a moment. Bagheera wriggled his hips, loving this. When was the last time he'd felt like this? It was as if he was in heat! He felt like he was going to die if he didn't have something more, and soon.

"More. Please, more…"

"You sure?"

"Damn it, Baloo!"

"That's a yes…" A second finger went in with the first, and oh, it was big. It hurt, and it felt incredible—if Baloo hadn't been stroking him, he probably wouldn't still be hard, but Baloo was proving extremely talented at this sort of thing. He almost wanted to know where he'd gotten his skills. Bagheera rocked his hips down, experimenting, and growled in the back of his throat. Delicious. Exactly what he'd been craving. "Never heard you swear so much, sugar…"

"Stick around," Bagheera managed, kissing him deeply, hungrily. "It gets better."

"I hope so…" Baloo began to scissor his fingers, and Bagheera nearly lost it. In, stretch, out. In, stretch, out. He bucked his hips down, wanting to ride Baloo's hand, have a more straightforward rhythm. Baloo kept at it, and Bagheera decided he'd had enough.

"Now. Please. I'm ready. Do it. I want you." It wasn't poetry, but it was earnest. He'd been waiting and wishing and wanting in a vague way for more than a season, and in the last few weeks, he'd felt worse than ever, wanting any number of wonderful, dirty things from his friend—and now that he had him here, he was going to get them. "I love you. Please."

And he did love him. He did. It was more romantic than anything he'd ever felt, and it was honest and real and it knew Baloo's flaws and his own faults, and it wasn't really like being 'in love', not yet, but then again, maybe it was. It might be too soon to tell. He was perfectly happy with it, whatever it was, and it looked deep and rich and like maybe it wouldn't run out easily.

It made him feel warm and flush and scared and ecstatic. He wanted it all. Headfirst. Reckless and fearless. All his. All ways.

Now.

Baloo didn't ask anymore foolish questions, and when he slid on the condom, Bagheera got a fairly good idea why that was. Baloo was big and hard as a rock, curving slightly upwards towards his navel. He'd done that to him—turned him on. The boost to his ego only made him hotter. Looking at Baloo, Bagheera felt himself licking his lips, and the wanton sluttiness of the gesture almost made him laugh. Well, at least he knew what he wanted…

"How do you wanna do it, Baghee?" he asked softly, his voice a low, intense rumble, hardly recognizable as Baloo. "I'll do anything you want."

Oh, what did he want? Everything. On his back; on his hands and knees; bent over and held down; just like this, sitting in Baloo's lap. All ways. Every way.

"Lie down," he breathed, kissing down Baloo's neck. The big man moved, wrapping an arm around Bagheera and making sure he moved with him. When Baloo was on his back, Bagheera smiled, both hands on his chest, holding him up. "Comfortable?"

"Little achy," Baloo grinned, bucking his hips against Bagheera. He shuddered, feeling that hot slick hardness sliding against his ass. He was going to die, right here, just from desire.

"Let's see if I can fix that," Bagheera purred. Leaning down, he kissed his—lover, his lover, right on the lips, smiling. He reached behind him and took Baloo in his hand, giving him a slow, squeezing stroke, making sure he had his attention, and held him in place. He sat up, took a deep breath, and, trying to relax, put Baloo's tip at his hole, and began to sink down.

Bagheera bit the inside of his cheek, shaking with the effort not to tense up. It hurt, oh, heaven help him, it hurt—a hot, agonizing burn all through him. Baloo was considerable eye-candy outside…inside, he was massive. And it had been at least a year since Bagheera'd done anything like this. He was out of practice and it showed and it hurt like hell. One of his hands remained on Baloo's chest, and this hand tightened against his skin and scratched, all the way down to Baloo's belly. The bigger man hissed and petted one of Bagheera's thighs, trying to soothe him.

"Just like that, baby," Baloo murmured, taking Bagheera's cock in his hand and stroking him. Grateful for the pleasure, Bagheera wordlessly panted, head dropped, hair everywhere. He must look like a mess. "Oh, Baghee, baby, that's so good…I want you so bad, sugar, I'm gonna go crazy."

Bagheera put both hands on Baloo's shoulders. He took a deep breath, wanting that burn to be over. He wanted to get to the good part. "Go ahead."

"Baghee…"

In a cooler moment, he would think back and appreciate Baloo's conscientiousness. At the moment, it was unbearable. "Baloo, do it, now! Are you going to make me beg?" He heard his voice, and thought that that might have been a whine and not the outraged question it should've been.

"Maybe later," Baloo murmured, and finally, thank God, those hips started to move. The first few rocks were punishing, hard and unnatural, even though they were barely movements at all. Bagheera was sensitive from long-abstinence, and just about anything would've hurt. But Baloo kept stroking him, kept him hard, and after a while, the pain receded in and out, slower and slower, less and less, with every movement, until finally there was just this low-burning, slightly sore feeling, and a delicious fullness. Together, it made a hot, dirty, debauched sensation that had him purring aloud.

"Better?" Baloo asked. Bagheera made a soft little affirmative mewl of a reply. Yes, yes, it was so much better. So much better than everything—how many years had they spent, not doing this? Baloo shifted, and Bagheera sank down harder, and they gasped, a little moan of Bagheera's getting lost in Baloo's louder groan. "Jeez, Baghee…oh, baby, you're so hot, God you're gorgeous…"

Wearing a breathless smile, Bagheera leaned down and kissed Baloo firmly. Kissing, touching, making love…how could he have forgotten how good this was? Had it ever been this good? He found it hard to believe. When they broke apart for air, Bagheera swallowed back his gasps and ran a trail of firm, sucking bites all down Baloo's neck. Baloo moaned nice and loud, and it went straight to his cock. Yes, damn it, he liked that, he liked it when he made his partner moan, he could do that to him, turn him on like that, make him—

He must've made a pretty incredible noise at that moment, but he couldn't be bothered to remember it. All he knew was that Baloo had sit up a bit, gotten some more leverage, and he was rubbing, hard, against his prostate. Bagheera shook violently, clenched hands tightening impossibly more, nails scratching into Baloo's skin. Baloo growled in the back of his throat, oh yes that was so hot, and bucked his hips. Out and in and—there! Right there!

"How's that, baby?" he rumbled, rutting his hips faster. The bed was creaking. "You like that?"

"Yes," Bagheera hissed, biting his neck. "Don't stop…right there…oh, God, don't stop! Harder, I want it, I can take it, I like it hard…"

"Next time…we're changing this up…you're making it tough to sit still…"

"I'll…make it worth your while." Bagheera was impressed. He really didn't think his brain would still be working, not when he felt like this. Perhaps it just went to show that they'd always be bitching at each other, no matter what happened. He liked that idea.

"Oh…honey, you already are…"

That hand on his cock had slacked off. Bagheera bit his lover's lips a little. "Touch me."

"I am touching you…"

He snarled softly. Tease! "Baloo!"

"Oh, you mean, like this?" he asked, stroking Bagheera nice and firm and slow. Too slow. He just couldn't resist aggravating him, could he?

Bagheera gave him a heated glare—anger, he had to admit, was not the main flame burning in that look—and leaned down, biting his shoulder. Teeth against skin, he held tight and rocked his hips, hard and fast, letting himself off the leash. He wanted it rougher, and if it meant riding his lover until he was fairly bouncing, that was a tolerable bargain.

Baloo's long bellow of a moan made him smirk against his skin. See what happened when you teased? Bagheera'd warned him, and now he had to face the consequences…

Two big, burly arms wrapped around him, holding him close and tight, and he purred with delight. Of course, that turned into some of a yelp as Baloo rolled them over, pushing Bagheera down into the mattress and looming over him, miraculously still good and deep inside him.

Still, the change was unexpected, and caused Bagheera to lose that hand on his cock. He growled softly. "Excuse me, I was enjoying that—"

"Then you'll love this," Baloo promised lowly, leaning down and supporting himself on both forearms, elbows planted over Bagheera's shoulders..

"That's as may—oh my God—" There. There again. And harder, and deeper, with the whole weight of velocity acting on Baloo's considerable frame, now that it was freed up to move. There again. And again. And again. And again…every. Single. Stroke.

Baloo was right. He loved it. How in hell could he aim like that?

Bagheera tried not to just scream like a cat in heat, arms reaching up and around Baloo. His hand scrabbled gracelessly for some purchase, surely leaving a few vivid scratches in Baloo's back. He'd kiss each and every one of them better, later.

"Oh, yeah," Baloo groaned, loud and deep. Their faces were close, and occasionally someone's lips would brush someone's face, but they were too out of breath to really kiss. And Bagheera was biting his cheek to begin with, trying not to get loud. "Baghee. Babe, you're…oh, honey, that's so…"

Baloo dipped his head down to Bagheera's neck, stifling a moan against his skin and taking the opportunity to bite softly and suck, raising a nice dark bruise on his pale skin. Bagheera scratched down across his back, one hand cupping the back of his neck, awkwardly petting his hair. The scratching hand fell down to his side and slipped between their bodies, over to his bucking, rocking hips, as they tried to lift and meet Baloo's thrusts. Bagheera stroked his cock at a rapid, desperate pace, feeling like he couldn't stand much more of this. A year's abstinence did not lend itself well to stamina.

"Let me hear you, baby," Baloo murmured, giving him a particularly deep thrust that left him struggling to bite back his moan. "Don't hold it back. I wanna hear you, gorgeous, lemme hear what I'm doing to you…"

Bagheera laughed briefly and breathlessly, the noise dwindling to a little whine. "C-Can't you feel it?"

"I like your voice, Baghee. I wanna hear you. Stop holding it all back."

"I'll…oh, God, oh my God, ahh…I'll break your eardrums…" It was a legitimate concern. He'd proven to be a screamer in the right circumstances. And he hadn't been kidding about Baloo sticking around for more swearing…a filthy habit, but it only came out in private.

"Best trip to the ER I can think of. Please, Baghee…for me…"

Bagheera didn't stop the low whine that left him as Baloo thrust in, staying there and grinding against him, working his sweet spot with that deep, hard cock. He moaned out loud, bucking his hips up, into the motion.

"Oh, God, Baloo, fuck me," he gasped, making a strangled noise as Baloo retreated and bucked hard against him. "Damn it! Yes! Oh, hell, yes, I love you, you shameless beast, God, I love you! Fuck me hard, you know I want your cock, you gorgeous brute…oh, God, yes! Right there, right there, hard, Baloo, fuck me, please, damn it, please!"

Baloo set his jaw and sped up his hips, pushing a little more force behind each thrust. Bagheera could immediately tell the difference—more power, more intensity, more strength. He couldn't last. He was going to lose it.

He tried to relax, to breathe, but now that Baloo had got him to uncork it, his mouth was running on and on, and he was using all his breath to beg, to demand, to moan and hiss and gasp. His hand was moving hard and fast, pumping his cock double-time to each of Baloo's rapid thrusts, and he was babbling and delirious and sweaty and so hot, so hard, going to just fucking lose his mind—!

Baloo growled softly and shifted his weight, batting Bagheera's hand off and replacing it with a big, tight hand. The first smooth twist had Bagheera all but yowling, and when Baloo slammed hard against his prostate, Bagheera didn't hesitate for a second before letting a loud, brief shout. Both arms flew around Baloo's body and raked scratches down his back, and Baloo hissed in pained pleasure, bucking hard and fast.

"Oh, God, Baghee, can't keep this up…gonna…oh, baby, you're gonna make me…"

"That's it, yes, oh God, love, come in me, do it, I want to feel you come—"

And suddenly he was there. Bagheera lashed out and bit Baloo's shoulder, belatedly stifling the desperate scream that worked its way up from the depths of his body. His cock twitched in Baloo's hand, getting the pumping fist slick and dirty, his hips riding out his orgasm. He lasted, good God, it shouldn't have gone on that long, but it did, just wave after wave…he must've been totally delirious, at least for a bit, with his body behaving like that.

Baloo let out a loud, tight grunt, and his hips burst into a brutal staccato as he came. Bagheera moaned loudly—that little bit of thrusting slammed his over-worked prostate and pulled another wave out of him. Good God. He was going to die from this, or exhaustion, or both…

They fell back in a limp, breathless tangle. Baloo just barely managed to keep from crushing his lover, and began to withdraw. Bagheera protested in a wordless little grumble—he was enjoying this!—and weakly pushed Baloo over, rolling with him. There, prone on Baloo's chest with Baloo still deep inside him, Bagheera sighed happily and kissed the hot, soft skin under his cheek. They were quiet for a few moments.

"Jeez, Baghee," Baloo finally said, sounding awed and perfectly delighted. Bagheera yawned lazily and smirked.

"Mm-hmm."

"I mean, jeez! G'damn, even!"

"Well, well."

"I mean, that, and you, and you were just, and I didn't think you'd—"

"My, my."

"Where'd you learn that kind of language anyway?"

Bagheera hummed distractedly and carefully sat up. Stretching his back long and luxuriously, he slowly, rather reluctantly, slid Baloo out of his body. He felt hot and sore and he knew that this would be about ten times worse in the morning, considering the monster he'd just rode. It gave him a perverse feeling of pride, but he was still grateful that tomorrow was a Saturday. He might not be able to sit, much less walk. He smiled to himself, removing the condom and wiping off Baloo's hand and belly with the corner of a sheet.

"I mean, don't you know what that kind of talk does to a guy? What did you think you were doin', holding that back? People pay actual money to hear things like that in a voice like yours—where did you get the damn fool idea that you should be bottling that up?"

Bagheera leaned up and kissed Baloo softly on the lips, silencing him. It was a sweet, slow kiss, chaste and warm and lovely. Bagheera stretched out, resting his head on Baloo's shoulder, one arm slung over his chest.

He sighed, warm and deep and happy. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Baghee."

"This is too soon, and I'm going to ask it anyway."

"Shoot."

"Be mine?"

"Sure, baby, thought you'd never ask. Course I'll only do it if you're mine, as well."

"Hm. That could be a sticking point…"

"That's a joke. You're joking. It's a miracle!"

"Blame the afterglow."

"So…what happens, if we're each other's, tomorrow?"

"We'll get up. You'll make breakfast, or find something for us to eat. Maybe we'll quarrel a little. We can kiss for a bit. Then I expect we'll have our Saturday. And then, if we can, we'll have our Saturday night," Bagheera said sleepily.

"Why am I making breakfast?"

"Because I will probably be bed-ridden from tonight's escapades, and moreover you owe me for seducing and debauching me."

"Caught on to that, did ya?"

"Just tonight. Still. I like pancakes."

"Bacon?"

"Oh, don't. I can't take any more seduction…"

"Heh. I love you, babe."

"And I love you." He kissed his chest softly, tilting his head for a tired kiss to his lips. "I want to try this. A real relationship. You and me. Are you agreed?"

"Always up for something new, Baghee, you know me."

Bagheera smiled and let himself rest on Baloo's body. He was sore and exhausted and pretty damn scared, because he could honestly say he had no idea how this was supposed to work, or whether it would work, or if they'd end up just making each other miserable.

But just maybe, for a moment like this, it was worth it. They'd made their nonsensical, ridiculous, inexplicable friendship work…they could do the same with love.

They'd give it their best shot. And their best was awfully good.

Baloo tilted his head up and kissed the top of Bagheera's head. The smaller man smiled happily and nuzzled against him. "'Night, gorgeous."

"Good night," he murmured.

It could work. It would work.

It was working already.


End file.
